


Hello To High And Dry

by herecomesbucktofuckshitup



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alexander Pierce is a huge dick, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- Pop Stars, Boybander Steve, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, Gender Non-Conforming Bucky, Howling Commandos But They're A Boyband, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Problematic Celebrity Culture, Sexual Harrassment, Slut Shaming, Social Media, Trashy Pop Star Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomesbucktofuckshitup/pseuds/herecomesbucktofuckshitup
Summary: “Your client and mine will enter into a public relationship for the span of six months-”“Three.” Peggy demanded, crossing her arms.“Fine. For three months, they will attend events together, go on dates in popular spots, and become the music industry’s newest power couple.”“And when the contract ends?”“They break up. Simple as that.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Love Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi7Yh16dA0w) by Sara Bareilles
> 
> I'm having a little bit of writer's block with [my clone fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650557) so I'm taking a quick break to explore some plot bunnies that have been sitting collecting dust on my fic shelf. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Steven Grant Rogers!” Peggy’s voice rang out in the small studio. The rest of the guys cringed and distanced themselves from him as she stomped into the room, heels clacking viciously against the wood floor.

Steve winced. He wasn’t sure what he’d done now, but he was sure he was gonna pay for it. Morita whistled lowly as Peggy slammed the door shut. Her face was flushed with anger as she marched up to Steve. He held his bass in front of him like he could shield himself with it.

Peggy was nearly a foot shorter than Steve, but she still seemed to loom as she glared him down. “Anything you’d like to tell me, Steven?” She asked, voice soft but dangerous.

Steve glanced to the rest of the guys as if they had they answer. Dum Dum just shook his head and Gabe shrugged. No one else would meet his eye, as if they didn’t to be implicated in whatever it was he had done this time.

“Um…” Steve said, trying to buy time to think of a possible answer.

Peggy cut him off, obviously short on patience. “James Winter?” Her voice was nearly shrill with fury.  

“I… what?” He asked, caught off guard.

Peggy waved her phone in his face, too close to his face see what she’s trying to show him. He crossed his eyes, trying to see.

“Pegs, I can't-” He fumbled for his glasses.

“It's a picture of you kissing a boy.” Morita said, looking down at his own phone.

“A very cute boy.” Jacques commented, peering over Morita’s shoulder.

“Oh dear,” Falsworth sighed, tapping away at his phone. “You're trending.”

Steve looked back at Peggy. She was still holding out her phone impatiently. He took it, staring down at the damning image. It was taken outside of his apartment, late enough at night that the only lighting was a singular streetlamp. Despite this, it was a clear enough picture. It was an image of him with his arms around the waist of a young man, lifting him a few inches off the ground in a kiss.

“Looks romantic.” Gabe said, looking up at Steve from Morita’s phone.

“Yeah. Is he really as good a lay as his music videos would have me believe?” Dum Dum asked.

“Better.” Steve breathed, still looking at the picture.

“Because, I mean, they're basically porn.” Dum Dum continued, obviously not having heard Steve’s answer.

“I’m mostly straight and I would still hit that.” Morita said.

“Boys, would you please stop talking.” Peggy snapped, and everyone fell silent.

Steve still hadn't looked up from the picture. The picture of him unmistakably passionately kissing Bucky Barnes.

“Well, fuck.”

-

 

They hadn’t meant to take it this far. Hell, they hadn’t meant to meet more than once. But the sex was completely electric and the company was almost as addictive.

Steve had met Bucky at a red carpet event, some promotional for a teen movie that had been completely forgettable but incredibly well funded. The Commandos had done a single for it, as had James Winter. Peggy had sent Steve as the representative of the band, simply because he was the most camera-friendly and least likely to cause a scene.

All the musicians had seats next to each other, all forced to watch a inane film about how hard it was to be a teenager in the 21st century. Steve had been nearly dozing off when he heard a wry scoff next to him.

“Oh, boohoo. I’m straight, white, and conventionally  attractive. Woe is me.” Whispered the guy next to him, seemingly to himself.

Steve couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Not to mention that he’s captain of the football team, valedictorian, and rich as all hell.” He muttered.

The guy next to him huffed, and Steve shoved his box popcorn toward the guy, feeling friendly. He took a handful of the buttery snack without even looking at Steve. “When do these kids even do homework?"

On screen, there was another kiss in the rain, and Steve and the guy both groaned.

“They live in California. There’s a drought. How is it raining this much!” The guy complained, taking another handful of Steve’s popcorn. “I’m so tired watching the same white hetero couple in every single movie.”

“I mean, is it so hard to write an original story every once in awhile?” Steve agreed, and watched as the teenage couple sneaked into a house party. A loud pop song started playing as actors who could never look like real high schoolers in a million years began bouncing around wildly, mystery drinks sloshing out of their red plastic cups.

“I hate this song.” The guy muttered, now holding Steve’s box of popcorn.

“I like it. I mean, it sounds like all of Winter’s other songs, but it's catchy.” Steve said, slightly defensive. He had an embarrassing love for glitter pop, and that was the genre that James Winter dominated.

The guy next to him scoffed and ate another handful of popcorn. Then spoke with his mouth full, “God, what’m I doin’, get these the hell away from me.” He shoved the popcorn back to Steve, who took it, somewhat amused.

“I’m Steve.” Steve told him.

“Bucky.” said the guy next to him.

 

-

 

“Good morning, James.”

Alexander’s voice was light and genial, which made the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on end.

“Alex,” Bucky replied carefully. Nothing good came from a phone call before noon.

“I wanted to congratulate you, James.” Alexander said, and Bucky put down his orange juice, trying to anticipate whatever he’ll say next.

“Oh?” He tried, trying to sound casual.

“Yes. Steve Rogers,” Alexander said lightly, and the three words sent Bucky into spiral of panic, wondering how he found out. If there were cameras in his home, or if Pierce was having him followed now. Maybe he actually could read Bucky’s mind.

“I wouldn't guess you were into the boyband, talentless, clean-cut type, but I guess there's no accounting for taste. Do check your socials, James.” Alexander said, and his voice was followed by the sound of the dial tone.

Bucky opened up his twitter and went to his mentions.

 

_@JamieWinterWonderLand says:_

_OMG OMG OMG fukc you guys @therealJamesWinter and @HowlingSteve are totally fucking! Look at this fucking pic!!!_

_(picture attached)_

 

_@AlasAlice67 says:_

_im literally dead. who knew @HowlingSteve could get any hotter….. i wish i was @therealJamesWinter rn_

_(picture attached)_

 

_@poiormansfeminjsm says:_

_oh so i guess we’re fetishizing white male gays again? who is it this time? it's all for media attention anyway @therealJamesWinter @HowlingSteve_

 

_@nphchangedmylife says:_

_I don't listen to pop music, but I might just have to if @HowlingSteve and @therealJamesWinter keep this up.._

_(picture attached)_

 

_@BuzzfeedNews says:_

_These two pop stars were caught making out and we are SWOONING! @HowlingSteve @therealJamesWinter_

 

_@HowlingCommandHoe says:_

_ugh whatever @therealJamesWinter so does not deserve @HowlingSteve. He's a druggie slut and will break my baby's heart_

 

_@whateveaman says:_

_@HowlingSteve @therealJamesWinter It's totally photoshopped, you idiots will believe anything you see_

_(picture attached)_

 

_@homosapienbutmostlyhomo says:_

_gayyyyyy lmao @HowlingSteve @therealJamesWinter_

 

_@jimmyfallon says:_

_So guys, what’s @HowlingSteve and @therealJamesWinter ‘s #celebcouple name?_

_|_

_@kanye2020forlife replied:_

_Stames?_

_|_

_@tonystarkgotmepregnant replied:_

_Jeve._

_|_

_@dadiaf replied:_

_Howling Winter? Does that make it sound like @therealJamesWinter is fucking all of the @HowlingCommandosBand? Wouldn't put it past him lol_

_|_

_@jesuiskendall replied:_

_Wintgers??? idk doesn't rly work_

_|_

_@cocobutter replied:_

_Sames lmao_

_|_

_@anarcyru1es_

_all of there music sux who cares_

 

“Fucking fuck.” Bucky sighs, dropping his phone and putting his head in his hands.

The phone rang again, and Bucky watched it vibrate on the table. He debated the merits of letting it go to voicemail, but picked it up anyway.

“Barnes residence, this is the recently deceased James Buchanan speaking.” Bucky sighed into the phone.

“I guess you saw the picture, then?” Steve asked on the other end.

“At least they got my good side,” Bucky said wryly. “God I hate photographers. They’re out to get me, I swear to god.”

“You don't have a bad side.” Steve said, obnoxiously kind and good and sweet as ever.

“I'm so incredibly dead.” Bucky groaned.

“It's not that bad,” Steve tried. “Everyone seems pretty supportive. And it's not like either of us were closeted.”

It was true. Steve had made no secret of his bisexuality, openly dating both men and women, and being a loud activist for LBGTQ rights and causes.

Bucky, on the other hand, was outed when dramatically and publicly when pictures of him in a compromising position with a guy he met at a nightclub were printed by every less than reputable media outlet.

“It’ll blow over in a few weeks. As much as everyone loves a secret gay affair, people these days have incredibly short attention spans. We probably don’t even need to make a statement about it.”

“Oh, Steve, you innocent little bird; you underestimate how bad my luck is.” Bucky sighed, and he heard Steve huff a laugh on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Peggy says I tend to have too much faith in people when it comes to, y’know, publicity stuff. That reminds me, she wants to talk to you and your manager.”  

“Ah, fuck.” Bucky said, back to being miserable. “Yeah, Alexander probably wants to draw up some sort of contract or something. You still in LA?”

“No, I’m back in the city.” Steve told him. “We were supposed spend all day in the studio, but…”

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed. “Sorry.”

“You've got nothing to apologize for, Buck.” Steve said, soft and kind and infuriating. “We’ll figure it out.”

They weren't together, not really. They didn't see each other often enough to be true. If Bucky was being honest, Steve was the closest thing to a best friend he’d ever had. The fact that sex was amazing didn't help the fact that Bucky sorta wanted to spend every waking moment with Steve. But, neither of them had the time to indulge the _something_ between them. Bucky couldn't date, not seriously, not while he was James Winter. He had a reputation, an image. And Steve couldn't date Bucky because of that image.

His phone beeped. Bucky glanced down at the screen and saw a familiar face. “Steve, I gotta go. Someone else on the other line.”

“Alright. See you when I see you.” Steve said, cheerful as ever.

“It’ll probably be sooner rather than later.” Bucky agreed, and heard Steve chuckle before he hung up.

“I’m all kinds of popular this morning,” Bucky answered the third call of the morning, and he heard Natasha sigh.

“I’m not the first to get to you? That’s a shame.” She replied, voice a sultry purr.

“I’m not gonna answer any questions, Nat.” Bucky told her, knowing she would ask anyway.

“When did you and Steve Rogers meet?” She asked, and Bucky huffed.

“No comment.” Bucky said.

“How long have you been together?”

“No comment.”

“Are you ready to confirm that you two have been dating?”

“No comment, Natasha.”

“Is it a friends with benefits thing, or something more?”

“No comment.”

“Will we be hearing wedding bells in the future?”

“You know, when I knew you, you wanted to be a _real_ reporter?” Bucky lamented, and he heard Natasha scoff.

“I’m just giving the people what they want, Barnes.” She told him, and he rubbed his temple. “Who bottoms?”

“The whole concept of "topping" and "bottoming" is just a heteronormative society enforcing stereotypical gender roles onto queer males in order to make themselves more comfortable with the perceived unnaturalness of two men in a loving healthy relationship.” Bucky said, taking a sip of his juice.

“Right, so ‘James Winter tells us that he and Howling Commando Bassist, Steve Rogers, are in a loving and healthy relationship.’” He could hear her smugness over the line.

“Natasha! You cannot print that.” Bucky told her, feeling a headache coming on.

“Fine. I’ll change it to ‘sources close to James Winter’.” She amended, and he thought he could hear the clicking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously at work already? It’s still breakfast time.” He complained.

“Not all of us can be pop stars, James. Some of us have to wake up in the morning and go to their nine to five jobs every day.” She said dryly. “Plus, my boss is pissed that we weren’t the first ones to get the story, so all day is ‘Howling Winter’ research. I’ll probably be the only one to get anything before your managers put out a press release, though.”

“That’s because you’re a dirty rotten bastard, Romanoff.” Bucky grumbled.

“What can I say? I'm the best. Plus, I know you, James. And you’re just so much fun to trick”

“Keep your friends close…” Bucky muttered, and he could hear Natasha laugh.

“Thanks for the quote, Barnes. Til next time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky said, and hung up the phone, jabbing at the little red ‘end call’ button with more force than necessary. He tossed his phone onto the table, willing it not to ring for at least another hour.

He finished off the pulpy dredges of his orange juice and groaned.

  
He was so entirely _fucked._


	2. Chapter 2

“Fuck, there’s so much glitter.” Steve panted against his mouth, and Bucky smirked.

“Yeah that’s gonna get everywhere.” Bucky said, kissing down Steve’s chest. “You’ll be finding it years from now. I’ve just accepted it as a part of my life.”

“Yeah, fuck.” Steve groaned, and Bucky unzipped Steve fly with his teeth. Steve cupped his face and pulled him up into a kiss. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Bucky chuckled into Steve’s skin and wrapped  a hand around his cock. Steve gasped, and Bucky kissed the corner of his mouth before sinking to his knees.

Bucky was only down there a matter of minutes before Steve was frantically tugging at his hair and hissing, “Hold on, wait, wait, wait, wait, fuck, wait.”

Bucky pulled off with a smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Bed,” Steve told him, dragging him to his feet. “Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Bucky agreed, letting Steve lead him to the pristine white hotel bed. His knees hit the bed, and they went tumbling backwards, Steve catching himself before they could knock heads.

Bucky laughed to himself, and grabbed the back of Steve’s neck, hauling him into another kiss. Steve worked on figuring out Bucky’s shirt, which was some kind of trap, meant to confuse and befuddle him specifically. It probably didn’t help that his lips were still on Bucky’s, each kiss causing a dizzying rush of excitement through him, a sort of heady thrill that was making it difficult to comprehend anything outside of his skin on Bucky’s.

“Oh my god, come on, come on,” Bucky whined, pushing Steve off so he could strip out of his shirt. “Lube, condoms-” he said, and Steve pushed him back onto the bed with a hand on his chest.

“Yeah, okay, one sec.” Steve muttered, sitting up. He scrambled off the bed, grabbing the suitcase and unzipping it. “Found it!”

He jumped back on the bed, and Bucky laughed, pulling him down for another kiss. “Gimme the lube.”

Steve handed him the little travel-sized bottle of lube and watched him coat his fingers and hastily prepare himself. He got so caught up in watching the slippery slide of Bucky’s fingers that he forgot to slide on the condom until Bucky poked him in the stomach with his foot.

“Hurry up, I haven't seen you in forever.” he commanded, and Steve fumbled with the wrapper. “God, I need you in me like, yesterday.”

Steve hurriedly pulled on the condom, and Bucky grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. Bucky straddled atop him, gripping him and guiding him inside. Steve groaned and gripped Bucky’s hips, trying to be gentle. Bucky hissed through his teeth, adjusting his hips until he found that perfect spot. He rocked himself back and forth on Steve until Steve couldn’t take it anymore and started fucking up into that tight heat. Bucky yelped and ran his fingernails over Steve’s chest. Steve chuckled, and reached up to grab a handful of Bucky’s hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

They rolled over so Steve was on top of Bucky, bracketing him in with his arms. He grabbed Bucky’s cock and started fucking him harder.

“God,”

“Steve-”

“Fuck.”

“Harder!”

They panted against each other, biting and moaning and licking and cursing and smiling against each other’s mouths, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

They finally came, collapsing on top of each other. After a while, Bucky carefully dismounted, grunting at the strange sensation. He kissed Steve’s forehead and slid off the bed, padding into the bathroom. Steve watched his retreating back, and tried to find the motivation in himself to move.  

He finally sat up, taking of the condom with a grimace. He tied it off and threw it in the trash, mentally apologizing to the housekeeping staff. He looked at the rustled bedcovers and the glitter covering the poor white sheets. He made a note to himself never to hook up after one of Bucky’s concerts again.

“Damn, I’ve missed you.”  He heard, and looked up to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, shamelessly naked. He sipped from a glass of water and watched Steve, eyes scanning his body. “You think you could go again?”

Steve collapsed back onto the bed, laughing. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“We could do it real vanilla, just like you like. Turn the lights off, climb under the covers, do it missionary style.” Bucky gave him a lewd smile and rolled his hips at Steve. Steve remembered when they’d last had sex, at the party at Stark’s place. How after the third time around, they’d both been exhausted, and how they’d just kissed and kissed and Bucky had let Steve hold him, how they had both been nearly asleep by the time they had fucked, how Bucky had run gentle fingers through Steve’s hair. How much Steve had loved it, how he told Bucky over and over again how perfect he was, how much Steve wanted him.

Steve gave him the finger, then sighed and turned to look at Bucky. “Give me a few minutes.”

 

-

 

“James, I’ve called a meeting with the manager of that ridiculous boy band. You’re to meet me at Lehigh Records at 1:15pm sharp. Don’t be a second late.”

“When have I ever been late...” Bucky muttered into the phone, even though Alexander had already hung up. He was the only one who ever frequented his apartment’s gym, so all the machines where exactly how they liked them. He sighed and checked his watch, figuring he had another 20 on the elliptical before he needed to shower and get dressed. He pressed play on his phone and turned up his music until he couldn’t think about anything other than the downbeats of the percussion.

He loved the shower he had in his place. It was huge, with frosted glass and a rainfall showerhead. When he had first moved into his fancy Upper East Side apartment, he had decided that good water pressure was the best part of being rich.

He got dressed, a plain black crop top and a pair of short black overalls and pulled his hair back into a half ponytail. As long as there would be paparazzi and he might as well look good.

The flashes and yelling were almost immediate. It had been overwhelming, back when he wasn't used to this sort of thing. It was like being trapped, with nowhere to run and everything closing in on him. They would all yell, all say rude things, all trying to get his attention. He couldn’t see any of their faces and didn’t know how many of them were surrounding him. It would make it hard to breathe, make him want to lash out or run away. Now, Bucky just put earbuds in so he couldn't hear them and put on his thousand dollar sunglasses so they couldn't blind him.

He climbed into his car and revved his engine, letting the photographers in front of him know that he _would_ run them over. They jumped out of the way and he slammed his foot on the gas pedal, leaving the crowd in his rearview.

He stopped by a Starbucks, grabbing an Iced Chai Latte (low-fat, almond milk, no sugar) for himself and an Americano for Steve.  

He made it to Lehigh Records ten minutes before Alexander. He parked his car a block away and found the back entrance, away from the growing crowd of paparazzi in front of the building. A burly looking dude let him in with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, where can I find the Commandos?” Bucky asked, and the guy nodded down the hallway. Bucky thanked him and walked towards the door, struggling to open it, as his hands were full. He ended up knocking his forehead against the door until it swung open.

Steve was there, grinning at him like he was the best thing in the world. Bucky shoved his drink at him. “Here.”

Steve took it and leaned in and kissed Bucky on the cheek. Bucky hated it when he did things like that, like they were actually a couple. It just made Bucky want it more, ache for that domesticity that seemed ingrained in Steve like it was easy, like it didn’t cost anything.

“Thanks Buck.” He said, and took his hand, leading him further into the studio.

Bucky felt suddenly shy. He didn’t know Steve bandmembers, his friends. He had heard everything about them; how Gabe and Jacques will often giggle to each other in French, how Dum Dum always talks big game but still gets stage fright before every show, how Monty calls his mother everyday and gets chastises for not using the Queen’s proper English, how Jim will disappear for days at a time and reappear with the sheet music to their next big hit.  how Peggy had organized the band when she and Steve were in high school together and how she took the weight of the world on her shoulders. But he’d never met these people before, and he was sure they would hate him, would dismiss him right off the bat as a slut and a user, the way so many people saw him.

Steve squeezed his hand. “Relax. They’ll love you.”

Bucky took a deep breath and let Steve pull him forward.

The band seemed to be gathered in a lounge-like area, with an old couch and bean bag chairs scattered around the floor. It almost looked like a college dorm room, the way everyone was happily chatting and eating shitty junk food. Bucky thought it looked perfect.

“Guys, this is Bucky. Bucky, these are the guys.”

They all went quiet and stared at Steve and Bucky. Bucky gave a half-hearted wave and shifted uncomfortably. “Um, hi.”

They all continued staring and Steve gave an exasperated huff. “Seriously? This is what it take for you guys to finally shut the hell up?”

Bucky sipped his coffee, consciously not looking around the room. He could feel their eyes on him, and it wasn’t the way people regularly stared at him. Usually, when people watched him, it was with lust, with want. It gave him power over them, Something indescribable. Now, he just felt like a slide under a microscope; something small and curious.

“Is it okay to smoke in here?” He asked Steve. He relaxed his hips, taking a cigarette from his pocket and putting it in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his lips and smiled slyly around the room. If they were gonna think he was a vapid slut, he might as well lean into it.

“I'm pretty sure Mick Jagger’s done coke in here, so… should be fine.” Steve shrugged. He fished around his pocket and took out a lighter, offering it to Bucky. Bucky leaned in, the flame catching the edges of the paper, and he breathed in a lungful of tobacco and nicotine.

“Thanks.” He said, and walked over to window to blow the smoke out. He knew Steve’s lungs weren't too good with second hand smoke. He eyed Steve’s band mates, connecting faces to names. They were all watching him with various levels of distrust.

“You guys are dicks.” Steve huffed. He took a sip of his coffee and groaned. “Mm. Thanks for the coffee, Buck.”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky said, waving his hand in dismissal. “It was my turn to buy anyway."

“No, you got last time.” Steve argued.

“No.” Bucky shook his head, blowing another puff of smoke out the window. “You got dinner in Vancouver.”

“Oh yeah, Vancouver.” Steve said. “I forgot Vancouver.”

“You were pretty tired.” Bucky shrugged.

“Thought you meant Seattle.”

“Yeah, Seattle was that ice cream place.” Bucky said.

“That was really good ice cream.” Steve said wistfully.

“They’re actually sort of cute.” Falsworth whispered to Dum Dum, who nodded.

The sound of a door slamming open startled Bucky, and he began chugging his drink as fast as he could. When the footsteps grew nearer, he panicked and handed the chai latte to Jacques, who frowned at it. Peggy and Alexander entered the room, both looking very professional and very annoyed.

“Let’s get this over with.” Alexander sighed, and Peggy imperceptibly rolled her eyes.

“Yes, let’s.” She agreed.

“James?” Alexander said, and snapped his fingers twice. Bucky flicked his cigarette out the window and went over to stand behind Pierce. Alex grabbed him by the back of his neck like he was an insolent puppy and lead him toward a chair at one end of the room. Bucky sat, and Alexander stood behind him, hands on his shoulders.

“I assume you got the contact our lawyers sent you?” Alexander asked Peggy, and her eyes sparkled with anger.

“Boys, could Steve and I have the room?” She asked, and the Commandos cleared out as fast as they could, liked they’d just been waiting for permission to leave.

“Mr. Pierce, I’ve read your contract and frankly, I think it’s ridiculous. Steve and James here aren’t your belongings. You can’t just position them how you like and expect them to behave how you plan.”

Bucky was taken aback. He’d never seen anybody speak to Alexander that way. As he was so fond of reminding Bucky and everyone else he worked with, he could easily ruin anyone’s career he wished to. Everyone who was anyone was terrified of Alex, and rightfully so. No one dared oppose him.

Except, it seemed, for this tiny british lady standing before them now.

“Miss Carter,” Pierce started, and his nails dug into Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky grimaced, looking at the floor. “You don’t seem to know the situation that we’re dealing with.”

“I know exactly what we’re dealing with.” She replied sharply.

“Is that so?” Pierce asked, and he let go of James, stepping in front of him to loom over Peggy. “Did you know that 78% of Howling Commandos fanbase sees Mr. Rogers here as clean-cut and morally upright? And did you know that 82% of the same group think that James is a corrupting influence?”

Peggy shifted, glancing at Bucky quickly. Her mask slipped for a microsecond, but it was long enough for Pierce to see it and jump all over it.

“If we continue without intervening, people will lose respect for Steve and the Howling Commandos. However, if we control this media circus, we can spin this to our advantage.”  

Peggy was grinding her teeth. “And how do you suggest we do that?” She spat.

“You did read the contract, did you not?” Alexander said smugly.

Peggy huffed, and she walked over to the end of the room, grabbing a briefcase. She opened it and pulled out a stack of paper with malice. She walked back over and dropped it on the coffee table where it landed with a loud noise that made Bucky jump. He looked over at Steve, who was watching Pierce with suspicion. Bucky caught his eye and smiled apologetically, trying to convey _hey, what can you do?_ Steve smiled back, but Bucky could tell it wasn’t quite genuine. His stomach dropped, and he felt horrible. It was Bucky’s fault that they were in this situation. It was his fault that Steve was getting dragged along into one of Alexander’s schemes. Steve probably hated him now.

“I will go along with this, but I am going to make amendments before anyone is signing this.” Peggy said, pointing angrily at the contract.

“Fair enough.” Alexander said, smiling genially. He took a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to Peggy, who looked ready to claw his eyes out. She took the pen and sat, flipping through the contract and scribbling over it. It took about ten minutes of uncomfortable silence as she worked her way through the pages of whatever Pierce had put together. Finally, she slammed the pen down and stood, thrusting the contract back at Pierce.

He took it and slipped his reading glasses on. He peered over the amendments and hummed.

“To put this in the simplest terms, your client and mine will enter into a public relationship for the span of six months-”

“Three.” Peggy demanded, crossing her arms. “I put that in there. Three months.”

“I’m not sure that that’s-”

“I already don’t like this, Pierce, don’t push me.” She growled.

“Fine. For three months, they will attend events together, go on dates in popular spots, and become the music industry’s newest power couple.”

“And when the contract ends?” Steve asked, speaking for the first time since Alexander came into the room.

“The two of you break up. Simple as that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love!

 

_BREAKING_

_HYDRA ENTERTAINMENT CONFIRMS THAT STEVE ROGERS AND JAMES WINTER ARE DATING_

 

_Pop stars Steve Rogers (Bassist for the Howling Commandos) and James Winter are the latest power-couple to go public with their relationship after rumors first emerged early yesterday. The rumors were fueled by a photograph taken outside of Rogers’ apartment, where the couple appeared to be embracing._

_[PICTURE ATTACHED]_

_Since the photograph was first released, both Hydra Entertainment and Lehigh Records have confirmed that the two are in fact a relationship. The artists have asked for privacy in their personal lives and their relationship._

_The Howling Commandos newest single,_ Shielded _, drops in two weeks. Winter’s latest album,_ Your Drug _, is available on Apple Music, Spotify, and wherever music is sold._

_A LOOK BACK ON JAMES WINTER’S SALACIOUS PAST_

_ARE THESE TWO HOWLING COMMANDOS MEMBERS DATING?_

_TONY STARK: LIFE AFTER THE O.D._

_RUMOR CHECK: HOWLING WINTER- WE LOOK BACK ON “STAMES” PAST INTERACTIONS_

  


“Fucking vultures.” Bucky sighed, closing his laptop. He drummed his fingers on the coffee table; then, like an addict, he grabbed his phone and opened Twitter.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Wanda said, plucking Bucky’s phone out of his hand.

“My people!” Bucky cried, reaching for his phone. She held it over her head, which was adorable, considering she was nearly a half-foot shorter than him. He stood and she quickly tossed the phone to Pietro, who caught it easily.

“C’mon, Maximoffses.” Bucky sighed. “Return my adoring public to me.”

“Nope.” Pietro said, zipping passed Bucky when he tried to make a grab for it.

“God, fuck you guys.” Bucky sighed. He pulled his back-up phone out of his ass pocket and sat back down on the couch.  

Wanda sighed and climbed over the back of the couch and sat next to him cross-legged. She pulled the second phone out of hand, and this time he let her.

“Why do you insist on reading this filth?” She asked, looking at his mentions and grimacing. She powered down the phone.

“I want to know what people think of me.” Bucky said. “Even if they think terrible things about me, I'd like to know. It's like… like having telepathy.”

“Know thine enemy?” Pietro asked, tossing Bucky’s primary phone back to him.

“But it's not telepathy. It's a thousand people screaming at you on the internet.” Wanda sighed, watching Bucky’s phone like it was a loaded gun. He dutifully didn't touch it.

Wanda and Pietro were a young indie band called Silver Witch. They weren’t commercially or critically successful, but their music was good and their fans were passionate. They played at music festivals and small venues.

Bucky met the Maximoff twins a couple years back. They were in talks with Hydra to sign a record deal when Bucky stopped them. Now, they had to produce all their albums independently, and no major record companies would work with them, but they were happy and true to their sound. Bucky helped them as much as he could. They were good kids, and basically his only friends.

“So what’s the contract like?” Wanda asked. Bucky turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

“C’mon, man. We know there's gotta be a contract.” Pietro said. “Pierce doesn't wipe his ass without having someone write up a fucking contract.”

Bucky snorted. “You're not wrong.”

“So how does the HowlingWinter drama end?” Wanda asked.

Bucky made a face. “Is that what everyone's calling it? Jesus, that sounds like-like…”

“A scene band’s third album?” Pietro suggested.

“A bad erotica novel about Canadian Werewolves?” Wanda asked.

“A mid-2000’s anime.” Pietro decided, and Wanda nodded solemnly.

“Christ almighty.” Bucky sighed. He rubbed his temples.  “I hope Steve likes crazy boys because I'm about to lose my fucking mind.”

“What's he like?” Wanda asked.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.” She said, sighing dreamily. Pietro scoffed.

“He’s… nice.” Bucky answered. He felt like romantically sighing like a teenage girl, too.

“Nice? That’s it?” Pietro asked. “You didn’t just like, hook up with him once and get forced into this thing, right?” He was puffing himself up, like he could fight Pierce and Steve and the long line of misfortune that had put Bucky in his current position. He was a good kid.

“No, he’s just actually, genuinely nice. Like; he’s kind and he’s good and he actually cares about stuff.” _About me._

“So how does the story pan out? Is it happy? Is it sad? Will there be a twist ending? Betrayal? The world wants to know.” Wanda pretended to stick a microphone in his face.

Bucky thought about it. “The outline of the contract reads like an aristotelian tragedy.”

The Maximoffses stared blankly at him.

“Oh, my babies. My sweet little Sokovian babies.” Bucky sighed. “Poetics? Aristotle? Sophocles?”

Wanda shrugged. Pietro raised his eyebrows. “Not all of us can be geniuses like you, Professor Barnes.”

“I’m a highschool dropout, Pietro.” Bucky told him.

“Yeah, but that’s because of fame and misfortune. We’re just dumb.” Wanda said simply.

“You’re not-” Bucky shook his head. “According to Aristotle, there are three parts to a tragedy.”

“Here we go.” Pietro said, falling backwards dramatically on the couch.

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to Wanda. “Hamartia, Peripeteia, and Anagnorisis.”

“That wasn’t english, right?” She asked.

“No, it was greek.” Bucky confirmed.

“Oh good, I thought I was having a stroke.” She said. “Wait, how is this about you and Steve Rogers?”

“Hamartia: the hero- Steve, misses the mark somehow, makes and error in judgement.” Bucky dramatically pointed to himself. “Dating me.”

“Oh, Bucky.” Wanda sighed.

“Part two, peripeteia: a change in circumstances. I reach more of the Commandos fanbase. Steve reaches more of my fans. Steve looks less clean cut and goody two shoes-”

“Yeah, that always pissed me off about him.” Pietro cut in. “No one is that genuine.”

 _You’d be surprised._ Bucky thought. “I look less,” He waved his hand. “James Winter. I show that I have a serious side, one that isn’t always getting fucked in clubs and puking in alleys.”

“And agno- amnist- the third part?” Wanda asked.

“Anagnorisis. Clearing up of misunderstanding. The hero realizes he’s made a mistake.” Bucky answered.

“What does that mean?” Pietro asked, looking more interested.

“The contract ends, Steve dumps me.” Bucky stuttered a little. Saying out loud hurt, in a deep, stupid way that made him hate himself. He knew that he and Steve weren’t dating, and he’d always known that their relationship had an expiration date. Just, now: seeing it in print, made it real. “There’s a media circus for a week or so, and then everything goes back to normal.” Bucky finished with an aloof shrug.

The twins sat in silence for a moment, looking pensive.

“You have a date tonight, right?” Wanda asked finally.

“Yeah.” Bucky answered. “I should probably get ready.”

 

-

 

Penelope's was a mediocre restaurant that had somehow convinced the world that it was fancy. They had all the right pieces to a fancy restaurant;  quality ingredients, friendly well-dressed waiters, a menu in a different language, a fun quirky environment,  high prices, and hordes of hipsters drinking IPAs and praising the place. It's just that the food wasn't good.

Steve stood outside, checking his watch. He was wearing an uncomfortably tight pair of slacks and a nice patterned button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Peggy had insisted on dressing him for his first public date with Bucky.

Bucky walked up, hands deep in his pockets. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi.” Steve smiled, throwing an arm over Bucky’s shoulders and pulling him close to kiss his cheek. “You look nice.”

Bucky was wearing torn up jeans over fishnets, an old black t-shirt, and a blazer that was far too big for him. He had eyeliner smudged around his eyes and his nails were painted purple.

“Thanks, two teenage indie singers dressed me.” He answered. Steve made a confused face, but Bucky just shrugged him off.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

Bucky sighed. “I guess.”

They walked into the restaurant hand-in-hand. The maitre d's eyes went wide, and Steve smiled at her. “Reservation for Rogers?”

“Yes! Of course, um, right this way sir.”

She led them to a booth in the back. It was private enough that no one would be able overhear conversation, but visible enough that people would see them and be able to take pictures.

They sat down at the table and a waitress ran up to them, obviously a little too excited.

“Hi! Welcome to Penelope’s! What can I get you to drink?” She chirped.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other.

“May I please have a cherry soda, please?” Steve asked.

“Great! And for you, sir?” The waitress asked Bucky.

“Uhh, an old fashioned, please. Thanks.”

She left and Bucky leaned in to Steve. “You still drink old fashioneds, right?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah.”

Bucky sighed and leaned back in his seat. “So how’s your day been?”

“Not too bad. I haven’t been out of my house all day, so that’s pretty nice.” Steve told him.

“When’s the album drop?” Bucky asked.

“In like two weeks.” Steve answered.

The waitress came by with their drinks. Once she was out of sight, they traded. Bucky sipped the cherry soda and watched some of the people at the bar. “You staying in town for the release?”

“Yeah, we’ll be in Manhattan.” Steve told him. “Jacques is throwing a mandatory drop party.”

Bucky made a face. “I hate those.”

“Ours are actually pretty fun.”

The waitress came by and they ordered. Steve struggled through the pronunciation of his dish, and Bucky just pointed at what he wanted.

“Who suggested this place?” Bucky asked.

“Your manager did, actually.” Steve said.

“Oh.” Bucky stirred his soda. He glanced up at the people sitting at the bar. “Paps.”

“Already?” Steve asked, turning to look.

“Jesus, you're conspicuous.” Bucky laughed.

Steve caught the eye of a redheaded paparazzo, and she smiled, slipping out of her seat. Bucky sighed loudly. “Here we go.”

She walked up to the table. “Hey, Barnes.”

“Romanoff.” Bucky greeted. “I could not be more clearly on a date. Can you kindly fuck off?”

She just laughed, slipping into the seat next to Bucky. She stretched her hand across the table, offering it to Steve. “Nice to meet you. I'm Natasha Romanoff.”

Steve shook her hand, because his mama raised him right. “It's nice to meet you, Miss Romanoff, but we’re not taking questions tonight.”

“Ooh, cute _and_ well trained. You really hit the nail on the head with this one, James.” She said, wrapping her arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Oh my god, Nat could you just leave us alone?” Bucky asked, putting his face in his hands. “I don't know if you're being a dick or just being weirdly protective, but whatever it is can you let us eat?”

“You really wanna eat here? The food’s pretty shitty.”

“Then why are you here?” Steve asked her.

“Same reason you are, sweetheart. Work.” Her smile was sharp as knives. She turned to Bucky. “See you later, Jamie.” She kissed his cheek and stood, walking gracefully out the door.

Bucky flipped off her back. “God, she's such an asshole.” He sighed.

“How do you know her?” Steve asked, curious. He didn't know a lot about Bucky’s life. He tended to keep everything pretty close to his chest.

“We were in a couple of the same foster families.” Bucky answered easily. “She's like a cross between a big sister and the actual devil.”

“Do you think she knows something?” Steve asked. “She said-”

“Natasha only pretends to know everything.” Bucky said. “Don’t worry about her.”

The waitress came by with their food and placed it in front of them. Bucky took a bite of his salad, then immediately made a disgusted face. He slowly chewed, then swallowed, like it pained him.

“That bad?” Steve asked, wincing. Bucky grabbed his soda and drained it, nodding.

Steve looked down at his food. It looked very nice, with multicolored pasta and fancy sauce painted along the plate. He tentatively took a bite.

“Oh, that’s just pepper. That’s just a lot of pepper.” He said, grimacing. He was too polite to spit out his food in a napkin, but it was a close thing.

“Jesus, this fucking salad was 40 dollars and it's anchovy flavored.” Bucky pushed his plate away from himself. “Shit, that’s gross.”

“How long do we have to sit here?” Steve asked. “We don’t have to eat this, right? That wasn’t in the contract?”

“No, Alexander probably just had a deal with the owner that we’d get seen here, help them promote their shitty restaurant.” Bucky sighed in distaste. He signalled the waitress for the check.

“Is everything okay with the food?” She asked them.

“Yeah! Everything’s great!” Bucky said, voice chipper.

“Can we get this in a box?” Steve asked, pointing at their untouched food.

“Sure!” She said, smiling so wide that her cheeks had to be hurting.

They walked out of the restaurant, holding the leftovers of their dinner.

“You want Shake Shack?” Steve offered.

“Shiiit, that sounds good.” Bucky groaned.

Steve checked his phone.“There’s one that’s like, 14 blocks from here.”  

“Hell yeah.” Bucky laughed. “Just, one sec.”

Bucky walked to the corner, where a homeless woman was sitting, holding a styrofoam cup.

“Hey, sweetie, you got any spare change?” She called to him, and he grinned at her.

“For you, I’ve got spare bills.” He said, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out half the cash and stuffed it into her cup.

“Shit, honey, I think you counted wrong.” She whistled lowly, looking into the cup.

“No, I got it right. Listen, I need a favor from you. I’ve got this food, and it kinda sucks. I was looking for someone to take it off my hands. Do you mind?”

She squinted at him. “Nothing weird, right?”

Bucky held up his hand in a boy scout’s salute. “I solemnly swear.”

The woman shrugged. “Alright. I’ll take it.”

“Thanks.” Bucky said, handing her the food.

“See you later!” She called and Bucky waved goodbye, walking back to Steve.

Steve shook his head, taking Bucky’s hand. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Bucky asked, and they started walking towards the Shake Shack.

“Why people don’t see you.” Steve said. “You’re amazing, Buck.”

“Shut up.” Bucky said, blushing. He looked really pretty when he was flustered.

“So many people are wrong about you.” Steve said. He raised Bucky’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I wish they could see you like I do.”

“Whatever.” Bucky shrugged. “Let’s go get some fucking cheese fries.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky continues to be in love, Wanda continues to meddle, Pierce continues to be a dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter deals with some issues regarding weight and food. The problems are external, and not derivative of any sort of eating disorder.
> 
> Please keep yourself safe! xoxoxo
> 
> (sorry for the distinct lack of Steve)

Bucky walked into his apartment, flinging off his shoes. He had spent the night at Steve’s place after they had gotten burgers. It had been nice, not fucking in a hotel in a random city that they both happened to be in. Steve’s place was cozy, and modest for the neighborhood he was in.

He had got to spend the night in a bed that smelled like Steve, covered by a quilt that Steve’s mom had made. He showered with Steve and used his body wash. He ate breakfast that Steve made for him. He walked home wearing Steve’s clothes, a loose pair of jeans and a hoodie that Bucky had no plans of giving back.

“I'm home!” Bucky called to his empty apartment, wishing, not for the first time, that his building allowed pets.

He walked into his kitchen, blindly reaching for his fridge. When it didn't open, he looked down to see the large padlock keeping it shut and the angry yellow post-it note demanding: _CALL ME_

“Shit.” Bucky sighed, pulling out his phone. He pressed the call button and it rang only once before it was answered.

“Hello, James. I take it you had a nice evening?” Alexander answered pleasantly.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, testing the weight of the lock. He leaned down, pulling a bobby pin from his hair.

“You were meant to eat at Penelope's.” Pierce told him.

“We tried.” James answered. “I mean, we did. We were there, we were seen, your photographers took pictures of us enjoying our meal. I don't see what the problem is.”

He slid the pin into the lock, testing it carefully.

“The problem,” Alexander growled. “is that you were seen and photographed later that night eating fast food.”

Alexander said “fast food” the way a normal person might say “flesh eating maggots”.

Bucky didn't say anything. He may be a smartass, but he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He turned the pin, trying to feel for the catch of the lock.

“You are meant to be following a strict diet, James. You know that people only pay attention to you because of your body. After all I've done for you, I can't believe you'd let that go to waste. You aren't to eat anything until I see you in my office for a weigh in and an appointment with Dr. Zola, do you understand?”

The lock clicked open and Bucky grinned. “I understand, Alex. I'm sorry.”

“Be here by 1.” Pierce demanded, then hung up.

Bucky slid the lock off his fridge, spitefully grabbing a grapefruit. “Fuck you, Pierce.” He muttered.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Holy shit!” Bucky whipped around and threw the grapefruit at the voice, which turned out to belong to Clint, who staggered back as the grapefruit hit him in the shoulder.

Clint stared down at the grapefruit where it rested on the floor. “Ow.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Bucky asked, putting a hand over his heart. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”

“So you threw a citrus at me? That hardly seems fair.” Clint bent down to pick up the fruit.

“Why are you in my house?” Bucky asked, verging on hysterical.

“Hey, Bucky?” Wanda walked out of guest room, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “There was his random homeless guy outside who said he knew you so we- oh. Hello.” She blinked at Clint.

“Why are you in my house?” Bucky sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Jesus, I can’t take this.” He figured that maybe his apartment didn’t allow pets, but he seemed to have managed to collect a few strays. “Is your brother here?”

“The cute kid with the bad bleach job?” Clint asked.

“That’s him.” Bucky confirmed. “Clint, what are you doing here?”

“You're not gonna ask her?” Clint asked, pointing at Wanda.

“No, I know she stole a bottle of my good wine and fell asleep watching Netflix on my couch.” Bucky told him, and

Wanda scoffed in protest. “You don't know that.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and looked at Clint.

Clint shrugged. “They were drinking merlot and watching the Great British Baking Show. Pretty classy, if you ask me.”

“Snitch!” Wanda accused. She turned to Bucky and waved her finger at Clint. “He said he was hiding from the police and needed a place to lay low for a while!”

“Dammit Clint,” Bucky sighed disappointedly.

“Hey! I will not stand by while this… this toddler slanders my good name!” Clint asserted.

“I'm 19!” Wanda yelled, stamping her foot against Bucky’s designer hardwood floor.

“Oh my fucking god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “Quiet game. Right now. The next person who makes a sound gets thrown out of my apartment.” Between Pierce’s call and his unexpected house guests, Bucky’s post-Steve glow was pretty much dead.

Clint and Wanda remained amazingly silent as Bucky walked passed them and into his living room. Pietro was sprawled over the couch, still asleep and still clutching an empty bottle of 80 dollar wine. Bucky turned off the TV, threw a blanket over Pietro, grabbed the empty pizza boxes and the wine bottle and took it all to the trash.

Then, he walked into his bedroom, changing out of Steve’s clothes and taking his hair out of its braid. Took a quick shower, not trusting the Clint and the Maximoffs to be alone together for too long.

He got dressed, slipping on a pair of shorts that barely covered his ass, and after some deliberation, he put Steve’s sweatshirt back on.

He walked back into his living room, where Wanda and Clint had reached some sort of accord, sitting on the floor and sharing a bag of chips. Pietro was still asleep.

“Hey man, why’s there lock on your fridge?” Clint asked, mouth full.

“Pierce, or one of his goons, managed to sneak in while you three chucklefucks were having a slumber party.” Bucky sighed, sitting on the floor next to them and grabbing a handful of chips. “He’s pissed that I went to Shake Shack last night.”

“Oh, yeah!” Wanda said, grabbing her phone. “I saw those pictures on Twitter. You guys are so cute!”

“So he broke into your place and locked your fridge?” Clint asked, frowning. “That’s… pretty fucked up, buddy.”  
Bucky shrugged. “That’s Alex.” Wanda nodded sagely, still scrolling through her phone.

Clint looked concerned, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “So, are you really running from the cops?”

“One cop. And not because I did crime or anything.” Clint said.

“Because you stole a loaf of bread?” Wanda asked. “Were you just trying to feed your family and now he’s obsessed with tracking you down? Is he darkening your door like a spectre of death for the rest of your days? Will he follow you until the end of the earth until one or both of you dies?”

“No, I just owe him some money. Well, my brother owes him money. It's a whole thing.” Clint waved his hand noncommittally. “Anyway, I just needed to skip town for a while. Chicago’s not my thing anyway. Pizza’s too thick.”

“I thought you were in San Francisco.” Bucky said.

“Eh, too many stoners and yoga moms.” Clint told him.

“Wait, so like- what’s your deal?” Wanda asked Clint.

Bucky lurched forward. “Wanda, don’t-”

“I’m a nomad, really. A roamer, a wanderer.” Clint started.

“Fucking Christ.” Bucky grumbled.

Wanda blinked, looking between the two of them. “But like… are you Bucky’s dealer, or-”

“Wanda for the last time, I don’t do drugs.” Bucky sighed. “Clint’s my brother, sort of.”

“We were in a group home together.” Clint said, nodding and eating another handful of chips.

Bucky’s phone pinged, and he looked at it, sighing. “Fuck. I gotta go, you guys.”

“Where?” Wanda asked.

“I have to go to Alexander’s office.” Bucky told her.

“Can I walk with you?” Clint asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Sure.”

Clint stood and helped Bucky to his feet. Bucky turned to Wanda. “Lock up when you leave.”

Wanda scoffed. “It’s cute you think I’m leaving. Pietro won’t be awake for another four hours.”

“Plus your apartment is sweet as hell.” Clint added. Wanda nodded, stretching out on the floor and digging her toes into Bucky’s shag carpet.

“See you later.” Clint waved at Wanda and Bucky struggled to lace up his combat boots. He grabbed his phone and wallet and keys, then headed out of the building with Clint on his tail.

They walked down the street, and once they were about a block away from Bucky’s place, he turned to Clint. “So what’s up?”

Clint was looking at the floor, walking with his hands in his pockets. “Bobbi and I split up.” He admitted.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bucky tried awkwardly. He patted Clint’s back, and Clint wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him close, kissing his temple.

“I missed you, kiddo.” Clint said, and Bucky smiled, squeezing Clint close for a split second, then pushing him away.

“Okay, weirdo.” Bucky said with a grin. Clint laughed a little, bumping his shoulder into Bucky’s.

They reached Pierce’s office building and Bucky turned to Clint. “Okay, wait here. This should only take a second.”

“Are you sure? This Alex dude sounds like a dick. I can come up if you want.” Clint offered.

Bucky smiled. “No, it’s fine. I can handle him. Go get some Starbucks or something.” He pressed the buzzer and the door unlocked. He walked into the building, taking the elevator to the 4th floor.

He knocked on the door marked _A Pierce-Hydra Entertainment_. It took a few seconds, and Bucky rolled his eyes, because he knew that Alexander was waiting on purpose to make him sweat.

Pierce pulled the door open and smiled coldly. “James, so glad you could make it.”

Bucky held his tongue, knowing anything he could say would just make the situation worse.

Pierce held open the door, ushering Bucky inside. “Come in, come in.” He put his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck like he was leading a misbehaving child out of a store.

Dr Zola was sitting inside. He smiled at Bucky and Bucky tried not to recoil. Zola was already surveying Bucky’s body, in a way that was both scientific and lustful.

“Hello James. It's always a pleasure to see you.” Zola took Bucky’s hand and kissed his knuckles.

“Let's just get this over with.” Bucky sighed, retracting his hand. Alexander smacked the back of his head; not hard, but just enough to be shaming.

“Be polite. Arnim doesn't need to be here. It's your fault I had to call him.” Pierce scolded.

Zola stood and messed with his various medical supplies. He glanced over at Bucky and took of his glasses, cleaning them nervously. “If you could just step on the scale.”

Bucky started to move towards the scale but Zola stopped him. “Wait, wait. You must strip first, of course.”

Bucky looked at Alexander. “Is this really necessary?”

“Do as he says.” Pierce demanded.

Bucky sighed and pulled off his boots and clothes, stripping down to his boxer briefs.

“Ah, and the uh… the undergarment.” Zola added, nodding towards Bucky.

“Fucking hell.” Bucky muttered, stepping out of his underwear.

He stepped on the scale and Zola adjusted the weights until they balanced, and he hummed, jotting something down.

“You’ve gained 2.3 kilograms since the last time I saw you.” Zola said.

“That's all muscle.” Bucky said quickly, glancing back at Pierce nervously. “I swear, I've just been working out a lot, it's just muscle.”

Pierce crossed his arms. “We’ll see.”

Zola dragged over a stool and patted it. “Sit, please.”

“Can I get dressed?” Bucky asked.

“Not yet.” Zola told him, digging through his bag. He came out with a metal caliper and smiled at Bucky.

Zola lifted Bucky’s arm up, pinching the skin between Bucky’s armpit and nipple with the caliper. The cold metal made him jump, but what was worse was Zola’s hands on his skin and Pierce watching the process so clinically. Zola repeated the test on Bucky’s stomach and his thighs.

Zola picked up his clipboard and started writing something down.

“You can put clothes on now.” Pierce said, and Bucky jumped off the stool, dressing as fast as he could.

“Mm, he's at 9% body fat.” Zola said, peering over the clipboard.

Alexander look like he was considering something, then looked at Bucky appeasingly. He turned back to Zola. “Let’s get him down to 4.”

“Four? Alex that's insane!” Bucky protested immediately.

Pierce didn't even turn to acknowledge him. “Do you think that's possible?”

“Not with the normal methods, not on his schedule.” Zola said, lifting up a sheet of the paper. “We could always put him back on dinitrophenol.”

“No, no, no, no.” Bucky started, starting to panic. “Alexander, I can't go back on DNP. Remember? Alex, I can't, remember last time?”

Pierce turned to look at him dispassionately. He frowned, then reached out to pinch one of Bucky’s cheeks. “It really does go right to your face, doesn't it?” He turned back to Zola. “Small doses.”

Zola nodded, digging through his bag. He pulled out a small bottle and handed it to Pierce. “3 milligrams. Should be enough.”

Pierce opened the bottle and shook it out into his hand. Small yellow pills cascaded into his palm and grinned, pinching one between his fingers.

He held it out to Bucky, who made no move to take it. “James,” Alexander said calmly. “Your insolence will get you nowhere. Do as I say or there will be consequences.”

Bucky grit his teeth against and insult or a plea or something and took the pill from Alexander, swallowing it dry with a grimace.

He wanted to spit it back in Pierce face, or at least look the smallest bit defiant, but instead he just shuddered and Pierce smiled, patting Bucky’s arm. “There's a good boy.”

Bucky walked out of the building with the pill bottle rattling in his pocket and strict instructions to take one once a day.

Clint was leaning against the side of the building, nursing a coffee. He looked up as Bucky walked out,and frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Bucky muttered. “Let's go.”

They walked back to Bucky’s apartment in silence, Clint throwing worried glances Bucky’s way every so often.

They made it to Bucky’s place and Bucky seriously considered taking another shower, just to wash away the memory of Zola and Pierce and the whole experience, but he knew that it was already deeply embedded in his mind.

“Bucky?” Wanda called from the living room, sounding frantic. “Have you seen this?”

“Christ, what now?” Bucky asked, getting up and strolling out of his room. Wanda was sitting in the couch, scrolling through her phone. Clint was leaning over her shoulder, reading whatever they were looking at.

His phone buzzed. _@ScarletWanda has sent you a Direct Message._

Bucky open the Tweet and groaned. “Fuck.”

It was from the account of a dying gossip rag that was struggling to make it in the digital age. They were desperate enough for content and viewership that they would publish anything.

Anything, like a picture of Bucky with his arm wrapped around Clint’s waist and Clint’s arm around his shoulder and his lips against Bucky’s brow.

Anything, like the caption: _THAT WAS QUICK: JAMES WINTER ALREADY STEPPING OUT ON STEVE ROGERS--- WHO IS MYSTERY HUNK? DOES STEVE KNOW? IS ANYONE SURPRISED?_

“Jesus tap dancing Christ.” Bucky sighed, putting his phone in his pocket. “I gotta call Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DNP is a dangerous illegal drug that makes the body metabolizes faster. It was marketed as a "fat buster" in the 30's but was outlawed after a few people died.


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy waved him into her office, phone still pressed to her ear. “Yes, darling. I know. Yes, I know.” She muttered to whoever was on the other end. “I’m sure it's not that bad.” She said as Steve took a seat in front of her desk. “He’s not off book?” She asked. “Well, in that case- oh I know. Yes, dear. Okay. I’ll be home by six. Alright. I love you, too darling. Okay. Ta.” 

She hung up, a faint smile still on her face. 

“How’s Angie doing?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, you know her. It’s one week until opening night and she’s running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She’ll only settle down once she gets that first standing ovation.” Peggy drummed her fingernails sharply against the expensive wood of her desk. “We need to talk.” 

“I know what you’re gonna say.” Steve sighed. “And it's a non-issue.” 

“The way I see it, if the Winter camp doesn’t comply with the contact, we don’t have to either.” Peggy said. 

“He didn’t break the contract. Bucky called me, he explained everything, and-”

“Oh and you believe him?” Peggy asked sarcastically. 

“Yes, Peggy.” Steve said, sitting up in his chair. “I believe him. He’s my friend, I’ve known him for two years, I trust him. I know you don’t, and that’s fine, but you trust me. So trust me.” 

Peggy pursed her lips. “Fine.” 

“The guy in the picture is his older brother.” Steve told her, and she deflated. “You know how the paps follow us. They just sit and wait until they get something they can sell to humiliate us. You know that Bucky has it worse than others.”

Peggy looked away and crossed her arms. “I suppose.” 

“He’s not really the way they make him seem. James Winter is just a persona. The glitter, the drinking, the sex, all of it. The real Bucky is sweet. He’s dorky and smart and funny and I like him, Pegs, I really do.” Steve said. 

Peggy sighed, looking at Steve. He could tell he had won. “Any friend of yours,” She said. Steve smiled at her. She sighed again, looking exhausted. “How do we fix this?” 

“Maybe we just be direct? Issue a statement saying that people are misinterpreting the picture?”

“No, being honest is never an option in our industry, I’m afraid.” Peggy said. “If we try to defend him, it will only cement in their minds that you’re a cuckold. If anyone makes a statement, it must be Hydra, or James himself, and heaven knows Pierce won’t allow that. He does keep a short leash… best not to address it at all.” Peggy tapped her heel against the floor as she thought aloud. “No, you must be seen together. People seem to enjoy that. Those Shake Shack photos went viral.” She smiled at Steve. “And people really believed that you're a sweet pair. You did look quite happy.” 

“We were. It was a good night.” Steve said, a flush creeping up his neck. 

“But where? Somewhere accessible, but posh.” Her eyes narrowed as she seemed to scan the possibilities in her mind. 

Steve snapped his fingers. “Opening night of Angie’s play.”

“Perfect!” Peggy grinned, grabbing her calendar and a pen. “Photographers will be there, you’ll be dressed well, and it's good press for the show.”  

They grinned at each other, and Steve felt like he was back in his mom’s apartment again, with Peggy sitting on his bed, helping him with his homework as he sketched her. Back when they were still young and dumb and thought they were getting married. He didn't feel like he used to, when he could barely keep himself from kissing her; but the need to impress her was still deeply ingrained in him. 

“I'll call Angie, she'll get your seats.” Peggy said, furiously scribbling in her calendar. “Christ, I need to move Jim’s signing, and Gabe’s going on Ellen this week to promote his charity…” She muttered to herself, and looked as if she was solving a complex equation. She glanced up at Steve. “You can go. I'll email you the tickets.” 

“Alright, Peg. Good luck.” Steve said, standing. 

She didn't look up, just shooed him away. He left her office, shutting the door behind him. Her office was in the studio where they recorded most of their songs, so Steve just sat at the old couch, the one they had taken from Dum Dum’s mom’s house, and picked up his bass guitar. She needed tuning, she always needed tuning; Steve had bought it second-hand when he was eighteen, coaxing it back from complete disrepair and teaching himself to play.

Back then, he barely had a musical bone in his body. But when Peggy had decided that they were going to win the 200 dollars in prize money that came with winning their school talent show, he had happily done as she asked. 

It quickly came apparent that while Steve had some inkling of talent, Peggy couldn't find rhythm with a clock. She was just terrible at any musical instrument she tried, and she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. They employed some help; Peggy’s cousin Monty could play piano, and Steve’s friend Gabe who could really sing. With Gabe came Jacques and his shitty guitar, and with Monty came Dum Dum with his drums. 

Of course, 200 dollars split 6 ways was less than ideal, but it didn't matter anyway. They had easily lost the competition to Jim Morita, who played classical guitar so beautifully that it could move one to tears. 

Peggy had descended on him like a bird of prey. She recruited Jim so fast and violently that he barely had the chance to refuse. He was part of the team before he knew it. 

They chose the name Howling Commandos, with the resolve to change the it once they found something better. Of course, they never did; or at least not before one of their videos went viral and  they signed a record deal. 

Now, Steve was sitting in their studio, strumming his bass, annoyed that he couldn't stop thinking about Bucky. 

Steve sighed and picked up his phone. He called Bucky, knowing that he probably wouldn't answer. He hated phone calls, and most of the time Steve was better off texting.

The phone rang only once before it was answered. “Hello?” The voice was female and lightly accented. Not Bucky. 

“Uh, is Bucky there?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, no. Well, yes, he is here. But he can't talk.” The girl answered. 

“Is he okay?” Steve questioned, trying not to sound too nervous. 

“Yes, yes. He's just sleeping.” The voice told him. 

Steve checked his watch. “It's 4 in the afternoon.”

“Yeah.” The girl sighed. “I think he's not feeling so good.” 

“Oh,” was all Steve had to say. He frowned. 

“This is Steve Rogers, right?” She asked him. 

“Yes.” Steve confirmed. 

“You're not mad at him, are you?” She asked again. 

“Why would I be mad at him?” Steve demanded.

“Exactly!” She cried. “God I swear, he is so neurotic sometimes.”

Steve looked at the phone. “Uh, who am I talking to?”

“Oh, I'm Wanda.” The girl said. 

“Oh!” Steve said, “Right, from Silver Witch. Bucky’s told me a little bit about you. I’ve heard your music. It’s pretty good.” 

“Really?” Wanda squeaked. “Pietro! Steve Rogers _lyubit nashu muzyku!”_ She yelled, presumably to someone who wasn’t Steve.

He could hear a shouted reply, and then another shout from different voice, then some rustling as there seemed to be a tussle over the phone. 

“Hello?” A familiar voice croaked, and Steve smiled. 

“Hey, Buck.” He greeted. 

“Hey, Stevie.” Bucky said, and Steve could hear the smile in his voice. “How’s it going?”

“Peggy’s got us a date next week.” Steve answered, plucking a few strings of his bass. 

“Has she called Alex about it?” Bucky asked, and then yawned loudly. “Sorry. I just woke up. I have a bunch of dingalings staying with me and they like to yell at each other while I'm getting my beauty rest.” 

“Wanda said you were sick,” Steve said, trying not to sound too much like his mother. 

“I'm fine.” Bucky told him. “Just a bit tired.” The background noise of all the people in Bucky’s apartment arguing with each other quieted, and Steve assumed Bucky had just shut the door to his bedroom. “Where are we going on our date?”

“Peggy’s wife is playwright and an actress, and her play's opening on Friday.” Steve explained. 

“Angela Martinelli, right?” Bucky questioned. “I saw her all-female version of Antony and Cleopatra. She's very talented.” 

“You know her?” Steve asked.

“I know of her. We’ve never met. What's her new play about?” 

“Uhh..” Steve tightened his D string. He was going to need to buy some new tapewound soon. “I think it's semi autobiographical? I don't know a ton about it, because; honestly, she doesn't like me all that much.”  

Bucky faked a gasp. “There's a human being on earth who doesn't like you? Impossible.” 

Steve laughed. “I know. It's her loss, really.” 

“It sure is.” Bucky agreed. “What did you say to Wanda to make her so loud?” 

“I just told her that I liked her music.” Steve explained. 

“Oh, yeah. That’ll do it.” Bucky laughed. “She’s a huge fangirl. She was a freshman in high school right when you boys got big. She probably had posters of you in her room. She probably kissed them every night before she went to bed.”

“Ew, please don’t make any aspersions about me kissing teenage girls. I don’t need that in my life right now.” Steve said with a wince. 

Bucky chuckled softly, and Steve’s stomach clenched at the familiarly warm sound. “So, how’s it going, Buck?” 

“Oh, you know.” Bucky sighed. “The usual. I’ve got people following me with cameras, sending me abuse on the internet, and throwing their money at me, so…” Steve could nearly hear Bucky’s shrug.

The was a rustling sound, like fabric. Bucky yawned again. “Are you in bed?” Steve asked. 

“Mmhm.” Bucky hummed. Steve grinned. He recognized Bucky’s sleepy voice. It was the one he used when he was stubbornly trying to stay awake. “What, um, what are you… when are you-” He sighed heavily, trying to straighten out his words, presumably. “Am I gonna see you before Friday?” 

Steve thought about it. “I’m not sure. It’s not like we can hang out without the whole world knowing.”

“Stupid world.” Bucky scoffed. Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “I think the whole point of the big public date is to show them that, y’know, we didn’t break up or anything.” 

“Oh, yeah. That.” Bucky murmured, sounding bitter. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Steve said. “You and I both know how the truth. That’s all that matters.” 

“How are you so stupidly good?” Bucky asked nonsensically. “God, you’re so perfect, it's infuriating.” 

“Oh, Buck.” Steve laughed, feeling himself blush. “I don’t know about all that.”   
“Mmm.” Bucky replied. There was some rustling, and Bucky sounded far away, like he had rolled over. “So good. Love you.” He tapered off into soft breaths, and Steve sat there, on Dum Dum’s mom’s old couch, listening to Bucky sleep and thinking,  _ me too.  _


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky woke with a start, his phone vibrating on the pillow next to him. He grabbed it without looking at the contact info. 

“Hello?” He asked groggily. 

“Did I wake you up?” Bucky looked at his phone and sighed. 

“Nat, why are you calling me?” He asked. 

“James, it's nearly 2 in the afternoon.” She said, not sounding judgemental, but concerned. Bucky looked at his clock and cursed, jumping out of bed. He stood, then immediately sat back down as he was overwhelmed with vertigo. “Are you okay?” She asked softly. 

“Yeah, I just- just had a late night.” He lied quickly. He was still wearing his jeans, and he stripped out of them without standing; writhing around in an awkward dance to get out of his gross yesterday clothes. 

“Oh, well I had a few questions.” Natasha said, less sharp than she normally sounded. 

“No comment.” Bucky said, trying to stand again. He propped himself against his dresser, grabbing the stupid little pill bottle and shaking one into his hand. 

“Off the record.” Natasha sighed. “I’m not calling for work. This is personal."

Bucky swallowed the pill and grabbed a fresh towel, staggering towards his adjoining bathroom. “I didn’t know that was a setting you had.” 

“Don’t be a dick,  _ myshka. _ ” She said, actual emotion in her voice. She hasn’t called him  _ myshka  _ since they were kids. 

“What do you want?” He leaned against the bathroom counter, staring at his reflection. He looked terrible. 

Natasha was quiet for long enough for Bucky to think the call had gotten disconnected. “Tasha?” 

“What’s Clint doing back in town?” She asked quietly. 

Bucky sighed. “Natasha…” 

“I know, I just wanted-” She trailed off. “How’s he doing?”

Bucky rubbed his eyes, trying to fend off a headache. His hair was falling out of its ponytail and into his face. “He’s fine. He’s good. He’s sleeping on my couch and eating my food.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” She laughed a little, trying to sound cheerful. She just sounded sad. 

“You could call him yourself, you know. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.” 

Natasha’s silence was telling. Bucky wanted to help her, wanted to reach out to her like he could have, once. But that was the past. 

“I have to go, Natasha.” He told her. 

“Yeah, okay. _ Ya lyublyu tebya, bratik.”  _ Bucky’s heart clenched. He hadn’t heard that in those words in a long, long time. It made him think of when they were kids and all they had were each other. It was like they were family again. 

“I-  _ ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, _ _ sestrichka.”  _ He whispered. “Bye.” 

Bucky put down the phone. He switched the shower on, turning the handle until the water was as hot as it could safely go. Stepping under the spray, he hissed as the water hit his skin. He took his hair out of it’s tangled trap, working shampoo into it. He spent so much money on hair products, it was ridiculous; but that’s the price you pay for such a brandable look.  

He scrubbed himself down until his skin was no longer pallid, and he felt better than half -dead. He shut off the water and grabbed his towel, drying off. He stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist. Bucky wiped the steam off the mirror, grabbing his toothbrush. 

He scrolled through his mentions while he brushed his teeth. It’s was 40% people trying to guess who Clint was, 25% rabid Howling Commando fans slinging abuse at him, 10% normal people slinging abuse at him, 8% fans asking about music/being nice, 6% random things that people tagged him in, 5% homophobic slurs, 3% sexual harassment, 2% bots, 1% people telling him about the gay porn parody of him and Steve that’s already been made by Men.com. 

“Huh.” He muttered, spitting into the sink. “Nice.” 

Bucky brushed his hair and french braided it away from his face. He got dressed in a loose tank top, jeans, and a leather jacket.

“Hey, I thought you were dead or something.” Clint said as Bucky walked out of his room. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, eating out of a tub of ice cream.

“I wish,” Bucky muttered, walking to the fridge. He opened it and sighed. “I need to go shopping.” 

“Can I come with?” Clint asked, Bucky almost agreed, but then closed his mouth. 

“That’s probably not a great idea.” He told Clint. 

“Oh. Right.” Clint said, looking down at his ice cream. 

“Did the kids finally go home?” Bucky asked, looking for his sunglasses and keys and wallet. 

“I think they found a day rave or something to go to.” Clint said. “On top of the piano.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky grabbed his stuff from the piano. He slid his sunglasses on top of his forehead, pocketing everything else. He was almost out the door when he turned back to Clint. “You should call Natasha.” 

Clint choked on his spoon. “Wha?"

“She called me, asking about you. I think you should go see her. Or at least give her a call.” He shrugged. “I think she misses you.” 

“I’m not sure that’s… kiddo, i-it's, you don’t-“ Clint stuttered, and Bucky held up a hand. 

“I know. I’m just saying, is all.” He opened the door. “See you later.” 

He walked out of his building, wondering how the three of them ended up being so lonely; especially when they had been so close, once. Maybe that’s just what happens when you grow up. Maybe that’s just how family works. 

He drove to the Whole Foods, and paid the 20 dollars for parking, because he wasn’t in the mood to hunt for a spot. He moved through the aisles, for the most part unmolested. One young girl saw him and squealed excitedly, but she didn’t make any move to approach him. That’s what Bucky loved about New York. Most people didn’t give a shit. The guy at the cheese counter clearly recognized him, but remained mostly professional while suggesting types of brie. Before Bucky left, however, he reached out. 

“S-sorry, sir. I just wanted you to know that you’re a huge inspiration.” He stuttered, still holding out Bucky’s cheese.

“Me?” Bucky asked, slightly confused. He took his cheese and put it in the cart. 

“Yeah. When you came out, it was just so-” The kid shook his head. “You really changed my life. I just wanted to tell you that.” 

“Oh.” Bucky said. “Uh. Thanks. What’s your name?” 

The kid looked shocked. “My name?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled at him, trying to be disarming. “What do people call you?”

“Billy.” He choked out. 

“It was nice meeting you, Billy.” Bucky said, nodding at him. “Thanks for the, uh, the cheese” 

Bucky browsed the wine section. Despite his image, he really wasn’t much of a drinker. However, he did enjoy a glass of expensive wine every now and then. It made him feel bougie. He grabbed a couple bottles, then heard a camera click. He sighed, not looking over at the young couple at the end of the aisle. Really, who still had the shutter noise on their phone camera anymore? 

He loaded his wine into his cart, pushing past them. It was hard to be bothered about that sort of thing anymore. 

He bought some basics; bread, milk, eggs; along with some produce, fruits and vegetables. He wasn’t much of a cook, but it was better than the hassle of going out to eat. He texted Clint, asking him if there was anything he wanted. Clint responded with several emojis that Bucky didn’t feel like decoding. 

Bucky drove home with a car full of groceries. He carried them up to his apartment, banging his elbow against the door until Clint opened it, helping him carry all the food into the kitchen.

“You know, every former foster kid I know grocery shops like a doomsday prepper?”  Clint joked, stocking Bucky’s pantry. “I wonder what that’s about.” 

“Let’s not delve that deep into my shopping habits right now.” Bucky laughed, struggling to fit his milk into the fridge door. “If I wanted therapy, I’d be paying for it.” 

“Hey, it's not like you don’t have the money.” Clint shrugged.  

The conversation was veering a little too close to reality for Bucky’s comfort. He grabbed his empty grocery bags and set them down by the door so that he would remember to put them back into his car. 

“So I heard you got a call from Steve Rogers yesterday.” Clint said, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah, I-“ Bucky frowned, trying to remember the conversation. “I was pretty wiped out, I think we just talked about our next date.”

“All I heard was Wanda screaming.” Clint grinned. “She’s such a teen.”

“Cut her some slack. It would be like… like if it was 2006 and Tony Stark called you on the phone.” 

“I think you mean  _ you,  _ kid. I wasn’t the Starkie of the family.” Clint said. 

“No, no; don’t act like you weren’t a total fanboy.” Bucky argued. “I wasn’t the one who had a magazine spread of him on the wall.” 

“Neither was I!” Clint protested. 

“It couldn’t have been Tasha, she was into that weird emo music.” Bucky said. He had a thought and laughed. “Maybe it was Nick’s.”

“Papa Fury? No way.” Clint scoffed. 

“Maybe he just put it up in our room because he thought that’s what teens liked.” Bucky said. “Could you imagine? Fury going through teen magazines, browsing the web for what kids these days are into?”  

Clint laughed. “How old were we when we moved in with him?” 

“Uh, I was 11 which means you were…” Bucky tried to do the math. “16?” 

Clint nodded. “Eh, sounds about right.”

Bucky sighed, wistful. “Man, I miss him. He was the best foster parent I ever had. Wonder what he’s up to these days.” 

“Probably still taking in kids and being awesome.” Clint said with a grin.

Bucky’s phone dinged and he checked it. It was a text from Alexander, which was strange; he usually called. 

_ You’re going to a play on Friday with Rogers. I’ll email you the details.  _

“Huh.” Bucky said, tucking his phone back in his pocket. For some reason, the text made him nervous. It was out of character, for Pierce; unexpected. He might be a jackass, but he was a predictable jackass. Bucky had only stayed alive with Pierce this long because he always had a vague idea of what he was going to do next.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” Clint asked. “You look kinda sick.” 

Bucky waved his hand, trying to wave Clint’s worry away. “I’m gonna play for a bit. You mind?”

“Go ahead.” Clint told him.  

Bucky walked to his antique Baldwin upright piano, sitting at the stool. The rested his fingers on the keys for a moment while they decided what to play. The opening notes of  _ [Clare de Lune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bRkE9MbCqM&index=1&list=PL2ywLGvBvNJeejug1WjsvOynD45F0UPDW) _ started, and Bucky closed his eyes, just focusing of the sound of the song and the movement of his hands. 

After the rolling arpeggios and the dominant-to-tonic harmony finally reached perfect cadence, James played the final flamboyant notes. Clint had come to stand next to him during the last few bars of the song, leaning against the wall. When the song came to its end, Clint smiled at him.

“I wish you’d play something happy every once in awhile.” He said. The words were familiar, teasing. 

Bucky smiled at him and lazily transitioned to an [old jazz standard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGK70IkP830&index=3&list=PL2ywLGvBvNJeejug1WjsvOynD45F0UPDW) , one that Clint would recognize. Clint hummed along, nodding to the downbeats. It was nice. Bucky had missed playing for someone. 

On Friday, Bucky was getting ready for his date. He was already dressed, wearing a dolce and gabbana suit, with high-waisted pants, a dark jacket, and a pretty translucent top that was half-way between a dress shirt and a blouse. His hair was up in a french crown braid, and he was working on his make-up. There was a knock at the door, and Bucky called, “Clint, can you get that?” 

“You got it!” He replied. He could hear some conversation in the hallway. Footsteps approached, and the door creaked up, and Bucky looked at the mirror, seeing Steve in the reflection. 

“Hey.” Bucky smiled. 

“Hey.” Steve leaned against the doorframe and watched Bucky dust eyeshadow along his skin. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and as always, he looked supremely handsome. “You almost ready?” 

Bucky blotted his lips and looked at Steve’s reflection. “Yeah. I’m ready.”


	7. Chapter 7

“James! James! Over here!”

“Mister Rogers! Smile for the camera!”

“How about a kiss? Can we get a kiss?”

“James!”

“Steve! Look over here, Steve; that’s it.”

Bucky smiled, making sure to turn his good side towards the crowd. He was grinding his teeth, waiting for this part to be over. They were all yelling at him and he couldn’t see shit. The constant flashing was blinding him, and he wasn’t allowed to shield his eyes or even squint; he just had to stare at all the lights, pose for them. 

Steve had an arm wrapped his waist, and it was steadying, comforting. Steve turned to Bucky, lips brushing against his ear. “I hate this part.” 

Bucky laughed, moving his head just enough to look at Steve. “It’s the worst thing about being famous.” He agreed. 

A chant was rising among the photographers, demanding them to kiss. 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, grinning. “Should we oblige them?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, trying not to let his blush show. “Don’t mess up my makeup.”

He leaned forward and Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s, hand moving to hold the back of his neck. It was less of a kiss and more of a pose, but the closeness was nice all the same. 

After they all cheered and got their shot, Steve and Bucky parted, and Bucky laughed; wiping his thumb over Steve’s lips. “Sorry, I just- you’ve got some gloss.” Steve laughed, taking Bucky’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Bucky’s stomach flipped stupidly, like it did every time Steve smiled at him. “C’mon, let’s go inside and find our seats.” 

They twined their fingers together, walking away from the photographers and into the building. It was one of the older more historic broadway theatres, and their seats were roped off near the front. People were wandering around, talking to each other; most of them well known intellectuals in New York’s art scene. Bucky felt wildly out of place, but at least Steve seemed to feel so, too. He leaned close to Bucky. “Do you know any of these people?” 

“Only by reputation.” Bucky told him. He nodded towards a handsome, sharply dressed man. “That’s T’Challa. He’s the Senior Vice President of politics at the New York Times.” He must have heard them, or felt their gaze on him, because he turned around. 

“Oh fuck, he’s coming over here.” Steve whispered. “Oh shit, what do we do? I can’t think of anything smart to say. Oh no, oh god.” 

“Gentlemen,” T’Challa nodded at them. Bucky stood to greet him, and Steve did the same. 

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m a fan of your work.” Bucky said, shaking his hand.

T’Challa smiled kindly. “I wish I could say the same,” He said, and Bucky raised his eyebrows. T’Challa’s smile dropped and he looked suddenly horrified. “I’m sorry, I-I meant to say-”

Bucky laughed, actually laughed, keeping himself from doubling over only by sheer will because he knew that his outfit was too tight. Steve started laughing too, mostly at Bucky. T’Challa looked somewhat taken aback by them.

Once Bucky had recovered his composure, he clapped T’Challa on the shoulder. “It’s okay man, it's not for everyone.” 

“I’m-” T’Challa looked at Bucky’s hand on his shoulder and Bucky withdrew it. “I’m glad you don’t take any offence.” 

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.” Steve said confidently, offering his hand. He looked pretty self-assured that he couldn’t fuck up any worse than T’Challa already had. 

T’Challa blinked. “It's-it’s nice to meet you too.” 

“You know anyone in the play?” Steve asked easily. 

“No, I’m here on behalf of the Times.” T’Challa told him, smiling placidly. 

“Shouldn’t it be someone from the Arts section?” Bucky asked. “Who’s in charge there? Uh… Dr. Monroe, right? Ororo Monroe?” 

“Yes, well-” T’Challa looked down, and he appeared to blush. “I’m here with Dr. Monroe.”

“Oh, well, I hope the two of you enjoy the show.” Steve said, smiling. 

“You too.” T’Challa said with a tight smile. He nodded and fled back to the group of highbrow academics that all seemed to be finding their seats.  

Bucky watched him go, giggling a little. Steve snorted. “I think that went well for us.” 

“Hell yeah.” Bucky said, bumping Steve’s fist. 

They sat down, still holding back their laughter. The lights dimmed and the crowd quieted. A spotlight fell onto the stage, shining onto a skinny woman with curly blonde hair and a large smile. She started monologuing as a greek chorus appeared behind her. 

The play started, following a young woman’s life, examining an artist’s descent into depression as she faces her thirties. It was mostly a series of monologues, and Bucky smiled when he realized that it echoed the themes and message of Prometheus Bound. He liked the allegory. 

The curtains fell, signalling the end of act one. The lights came up and Steve turned to Bucky, easily setting his hand on Bucky’s thigh. He smiled, in that stupid contagious smile that made Bucky feel lightheaded. 

“What’d you think?” Bucky asked him. 

“I thought it was pretty moving, though, honestly, it's a little too highbrow for me. I feel like there’s something I’m not understanding.” Steve said consideringly, glancing back at the stage. “The set’s cool though. Very minimalist.” 

Bucky nodded, feeling slightly dizzy with fondness when he looked at Steve. “Yeah, I feel like she’s purposely misleading us, making us feel like we’re missing something. I really like it, though. It's very clever.”

Steve chuckled. “It just might be that we’re not getting it because we’re the only people in the room without a graduate degree in something incredibly impressive.” 

Bucky nodded in agreement. “That’s probably right.” 

Steve stood, stretching languorously. “I’m gonna go get something to drink. Want anything?” 

“I’ll come with you.” Bucky said, and tried to stand. He stumbled a little, vision swimming. He grabbed Steve’s shoulder to steady himself, and he quickly helped Bucky sit.

“Jesus, Buck. Are you okay?” He asked fretfully.

“Yeah, fine.” Bucky waved him off. “Just- just headrush. Damn.” He leaned forward, putting his head between his knees as a second wave of vertigo overtook him. 

Steve crouched down next to him, hands flitting nervously over Bucky’s body. “What’s wrong? Can I get you something? Should we go to the hospital?”

“No, I’m-” Bucky tried to compose himself, sitting up. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just- a glass of water, maybe?” 

Steve nodded, standing and jogging to the concessions. As soon as he was out of sight, Bucky leaned back, closing his eyes tightly. His heart was racing, not normal racing, but beating alarmingly quick and irregularly in his chest. The room was spinning, and he was worried that if he moved too quickly, he might throw up on someone important.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He muttered under his breath, rubbing the heel of his palm over his chest. God, it was happening again. He told Alexander that it would happen again. 

“Here,” Steve said, pushing the water into Bucky’s hand. Bucky sipped it carefully, trying not to notice the way his hand shook around the glass. “Bucky,” Steve said anxiously. He pushed back Bucky’s hair, and frowned. “You’re burning up.” He whispered.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered, and he wanted to lean into Steve’s touch. He was having a hard time comprehending what Steve was saying, but it was probably something nice. Steve was always so nice. 

“Shit, Bucky, you’re really really warm.” Steve murmured. “I think you need to see a doctor.” 

“I’mkay,” Bucky protested. 

“No, bud, I think we should go to a hospital.” Steve argued. The lights started to dim and Steve looked up. “C’mon.” 

He took Bucky’s hand and helped him to his feet. Bucky staggered, and Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, leading him out of the theater. 

He hailed a cab easily, helping Bucky into the backseat. “New York Presbyterian, please.” Steve told the driver. 

“No,” Bucky said, fumbling for him phone. “No, no. Go here.” He showed the driver his phone. “Go here.” 

The driver looked in the rear view at Steve. Steve grabbed Bucky’s phone, looking at the address. “Buck, where is this?”

“My friend. He can help.” Bucky said, grabbing his phone back. 

“Bucky, you should really go to a doctor.” Steve said. 

“He  _ is  _ a doctor.” Bucky said. “He’ll help. Trust me.”

Steve sighed, then looked back at the driver. “Yeah, go to his address.”

The driver nodded and pulled onto the road. Bucky leaned against Steve, who had an arm wrapped protectively around Bucky’s shoulders, running his fingers through Bucky’s sweaty hair. 

They arrived in Sugar Hill, and Steve was looking out the window nervously. Poor Steve, he’d probably never been above 125th street. 

“Up here,” Bucky said, pointing to the building on the corner. 

“Bucky, this doesn’t look-” Steve started, but Bucky was already opening the car door, and Steve rushed to help him. “Wait, Bucky, wait.”  He threw a wad of cash at the driver and followed Bucky, wrapping a steadying arm around his waist.

Bucky reached the building, obnoxiously pressing the buzzer over and over until the door swung open, revealing a tired looking man in an EMT uniform. 

“What the fuck do you… Bucky?"

Bucky grinned, leaning heavily against Steve. “Hey, Sam. Can I come in?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah. so. i’m back. sorry about that long ass wait y’all. i literally forgot to update this

“Jesus, man. You look terrible.” Sam said, then glanced at Steve. “Yeah, get him inside.”

Sam lead them into his apartment, pointing Steve to set Bucky down on the couch. He jogged to the bathroom, coming back with a first aid kit. He grabbed a thermometer and stuck it in Bucky’s mouth with malice. Bucky winced. “You have the shittiest bedside manner.” He complained, voice muffled by the thermometer. Steve was looking back and forth between them, hovering nervously over Bucky.

“Yeah, well.” Sam shrugged. The thermometer beeped and Sam grabbed it from the Bucky’s mouth. “Shit, you’re at 104. You,” He pointed at Steve. “Go to the freezer, get some ice. And a glass of water.”

Steve nodded seriously and jogged to the kitchen. Sam knelt next to Bucky. “Elevated heart rate?” He asked quietly.

“Mmhm.”

“Vertigo?”

“Yep.”

“Nausea?”

Bucky held up a finger and a thumb. “Little bit.”

“Dammit, Bucky, you said you weren’t on that shit anymore.” Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“I wasn’t.” Bucky said. “But, you know…” He shrugged. “Alex.”

Sam shook his head, clapping Bucky’s shoulder. “Let’s get that fever down.” Steve came back with the ice pack and water, and Sam took the water, handing it to Bucky with two tylenol. “Take that. Big guy, hand me the ice.”

Sam rested the ice pack against Bucky’s neck, and he hissed at the cold. “Asshole.”

“I’m not the asshole, asshole.” Sam said. “You’re lucky I was home. I just got off a 18 hour shift. If I hadn’t answered the door, you’d be two rich white boys stuck in the middle of Harlem. Where would you be then?”

“You sound just like your mother.” Bucky sighed, leaning back on the couch. The cold was seeping into his skin, and he hugged himself tightly.

“My mother was a smart woman.” Sam said sagely, and Bucky had to agree.

He looked at Steve, who was literally wringing his hands. “I’m okay, Stevie. Why don’t you sit down?” He tried to pat the spot next to him invitingly.

“Are- are you sure?” He looked at Sam. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Sam said, nodding. “Once he gets his head on straight, he’ll be just fine.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist and tugged. Steve obliged, letting Bucky pull him down to the couch. He kissed Bucky’s knuckles nervously, almost like a soothing tic. “You’re okay?” He whispered.

Bucky smiled and leaned against Steve, resting his head against Steve’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. He tapped the rhythm against Steve’s stomach, right above his belly button. “I’m okay.” He replied quietly.

Bucky felt Steve’s fingers in his hair tighten slightly, anxiously. Sam packed up his stuff and patted Bucky’s shoulder. “Take it easy for the next couple of hours. The vertigo should subside, but I don’t want you falling down and hitting your head on anything. I’m going to bed. Wake me up if anything changes.”

He headed back towards his bedroom. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” Bucky called.

“I know.” Sam exhaled, and shut the door.

Bucky curled his fingers in Steve’s shirt, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of laundry detergent and bar soap and apples and Steve.

“Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, and Bucky hummed. “What’s, what are you, I-“ Steve shook his head. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”

Bucky looked up at him, chin resting on Steve’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

Steve just smiled tightly, cupping Bucky’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Just, just get better.”

Bucky nodded, and a shiver went through his frame. Steve warmth had distracted him from the ice pack on his neck, but a chill was creeping through his body.

“Here.” Steve stripped off his jacket and draped it over Bucky. It was still body warm, and Bucky closed his eyes.       

- 

Bucky was breathing softly against his collarbone, and Steve tried to ignore the way it tickled. Bucky had fallen asleep rather quickly, like he had simply been waiting for permission. He was now laying on Steve, splayed over his body like a human throw blanket.

Steve nervously braided and unbraided Bucky’s hair, trying not to focus on his pale skin and the small tremors running through his body. “You’re gonna be okay, right Buck?” Steve whispered, his lips against the crown of Bucky’s head. “Yeah, you’re gonna be fine.”

There was a startling buzzing sound, and Steve jumped. Bucky didn’t even stir as the vibrating sound continued. Steve reached for his phone, but his screen was dark. He carefully reached into Bucky’s back pocket, pulling out his phone. It displayed the name “Cruella Deville”

Steve looked at Bucky with fondness, and hit the ignore button, setting the phone down on the arm of the couch. “Weirdo.” He whispered to Bucky’s sleeping form.

The phone started buzzing again and Steve frowned, picking it back up. It must be something important. “Hello?” He asked, answering the call.

“Where the hell are you?” A sharp voice asked, and Steve glanced at the phone.

“Um, to whom am I speaking?” He asked carefully.

There was a long pause. “...who is this?”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve answered slowly. “Who are you?”

“Alexander Pierce.” The voice replied. “Is James with you? I need to speak with him.”

“Yeah, he’s here. He wasn’t feeling well, so-” Steve said.

“Put him on the phone.” Pierce demanded.

Steve rolled his eyes at the man’s curtness. “He’s asleep.”

“Then wake him up.” He ordered. Steve ground his teeth, thinking back to after they had negotiated the contract and Peggy had ranted to him and the guys about _“that impolite, self-important, bumptious little man.”_

“I’m not gonna do that.” Steve told him. “He’s sick, he needs his rest.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end, and Steve was distinctly reminded of a high school teacher he had hated. Mr. Johnson was his name, and he was pompous and condescending ass who looked down on everyone, and would sigh deeply whenever confronted with a question from a student, like they were too stupid for him to comprehend.

“Listen Mr. Rogers, I have something important to discuss with James. If you could wake him up so I can speak with him, it would me much appreciated.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. “Sir, with all due respect, I really think that it would be best for Bu- for James to get his rest. When he wakes up, I’ll tell him you called, but for now I’m not gonna do anything that’s gonna-”

“Mister Rogers, while this white knight act is extremely charming, you don’t have to perform this little charade with me. You and I both know that you and James aren’t really together. I don’t need to remind you that, to him, you’re simply a hook-up gone wrong. So it's sweet of you to pretend that you have James’ best interests in mind, but I know and you know that you’re just as trapped with him as he is with you.” Steve didn’t say anything, stung.

“Now,” Pierce continued, “I have some extremely important matters to discuss with him, and I ought to check on his condition. Please, put him on.”

“Fine.” Steve bit out, clenching his fists at his sides impotently. He didn’t know if anything Pierce had just told him was true, but it stirred up an angry and hurt mix of a emotions in his head and he didn’t feel like trying to classify them.

So he set the phone down on the arm of the couch, then brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. It was almost ritual for him at this point. “Buck,” He murmured quietly. Bucky stirred slightly, rubbing his face against Steve’s stomach and grumbling unhappily. Steve chuckled quietly, still finding Bucky endearing in spite of what Pierce had said. “Bucky, wake up for a minute.”

“No.” Bucky mumbled with a pout, not opening his eyes. He sleepily ran his hands down Steve’s chest, leaving a trail goosebumps.

“Your manager called.” Steve told him, and Bucky shot up on the couch, eyes open and slightly fearful.

“Give me the phone, I... ugh.” He grabbed the side of the couch, looking like he wanted to keel over. “Got up too fast, shit.”

Steve ran a hand up and down Bucky’s back. Bucky leaned into the touch, and Steve sighed, stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes as his legs had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago. “Are you alright?”

  
“Just gave myself headrush.” He muttered. “You said,” Bucky yawned, rubbing his eyes. “You said something about Alex?”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s phone and handed it to him wordlessly. Bucky looked down at it grimly. “Fuck.” He whispered, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Steve watched Bucky’s face as he listened to whatever Pierce was saying on the other end of the call. He didn’t give away much, just stared blankly into the middle distance, sometimes replying with short. “Okay”s and “Yes”s.

Eventually, he spoke. “Yeah. Well, I did tell you that-” He stopped, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Call Zola if you want, but I’m not doing this again. Last time I almost-” He pressed his lips together in a thin line, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Alex. Sorry. Okay. I understand. Fine. Bye.”

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. “Jackass.”

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “What did he want?”

Bucky shook his head. “He was just worried about me, that’s all.”

Steve didn’t think that Pierce had sounded very worried when Steve talked to him, but he kept that thought to himself. “Do you need anything?”

“A glass of water?” Bucky asked, and Steve nodded, quickly kissing Bucky’s temple and getting to his feet. He got a mug and filled it with tap water, bringing it back to Bucky. He took it gratefully and swallowed a few gulps before setting it down. “Thanks.”

Steve shrugged, “No problem.” He didn’t feel like sitting back down so he just stood there, hands in his pockets.

Bucky frowned glancing down at Steve’s chest. He reached out, touching Steve sternum carefully. “Shit, I ruined that shirt, sorry.”

Steve glanced down to see a colorful smear of makeup staining his white button-up shirt. He shrugged. “Oh, well.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand and tangled their fingers together. Doubt and fear mingling in his mind. “Buck...”

“Hmm?” Bucky asked, rubbing his thumb along Steve’s knuckles.

“I really like being with you.” He said. “I know that this-” He waved his free hand, trying to encompass their situation, the contract, the managers, the paps and the fans, the scheduled dates. “This isn’t ideal, but I’m happy that we can finally be together without sneaking around.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked down, flushing with more than fever. “I- I like that too. Although, you have to admit sneaking around was kinda fun.”

Steve smiled, stepping closer to Bucky and cupping his face. “Yeah, it kinda was.” He leaned down and kissed Bucky’s forehead. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, pressing his face into Steve’s stomach.

 _Yeah_. Steve thought. _This is real._ Real as anything Steve had ever felt before. He decided that Pierce could go fuck himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite Steve and Bucky’s abrupt departure, Angie’s show was a complete success. The reviews were overwhelmingly positive and the critics all agreed that it was a modern masterpiece, tantamount to a shakespearean tragedy. Or at least, that’s how Peggy tells it. 

She had been practically floating off the ground with pride, showing anyone she could find Dr. Monroe’s piece in the Times that called Angie a genius of spoken prose.

Not a thing had been mentioned about Bucky and Steve leaving, and their presence barely even made a mention among most reports, which Steve was grateful for. The photo of them kissing for the reporters did make its rounds on social media, but it was a nice picture, and everyone seemed to agree. 

Now, they were focused on bigger and better things, primarily the upcoming album release. Well, Peggy was focused on the upcoming album release. The boys were all focused on the drop party. 

“Chocolate fountains are simply unsanitary.” Monty argued, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Dum-Dum sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “You don’t have to partake! No need to ruin it for the rest of us, just don’t have any.”   


“We’re not talking about just a chocolate fountain,” Gabe started wistfully, and Jacques put his head in his hands, muttering to himself in French. “It's a chocolate Bellagio.”

“Guys, it's tomorrow.” Steve said, something he had needed to remind them of several times throughout this conversation. “Everything is already set. We can’t throw in a giant chocolate fountain last minute.”

Monty looked momentarily triumphat, and Steve turned to him. “And no foam pit.” 

“You changed the guest list,” Monty replied petulantly, crossing his arms.

Steve took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I invited four people. There’s going to be more that 200 people there, I don’t think four people will make much of a difference.”

“It’s 400% more people.” Dum-Dum said.  

Steve frowned. “I don’t think that’s good math.” 

“Leave him alone, he’s just bringing his boyfriend.” Morita complained, where he was leaning against the doorframe. “And three other random people.” 

Steve shrugged. He’d told Bucky to bring anyone he’d want so that he’d be comfortable. Steve knew that, despite his image, Bucky didn’t like parties, and he hated crowds. Steve thought that it would be better if Bucky had someone other than himself to talk to, since Steve would probably be caught up by all the people who wanted to talk about the album. 

“We can still have the ice sculpture, though,  _ oui? _ ” Jacques asked, and Morita rolled his eyes. 

He sat down on the arm of the couch, picking up his guitar and lazily fingering the strings. “We have everything booked already. I don’t know why we have go through this every time.”

 

-

 

“You’re freaking out,” Wanda accused. She was leaning over the bathroom counter, going through his armory of makeup. 

“I’m not freaking out!” Bucky replied from inside his closet. He wasn’t hiding, just… trying to find something to wear. 

“Is Bucky freaking out?” Clint stuck his head in the bedroom door. 

“No, I’m not.” Bucky said. 

“Oh, good.” Clint replied, opening the door to the closet and letting light stream in. “Because I need you to tie my tie for me.” 

Bucky, who was hiding among his shirts, sighed, stepping forward. Clint was wearing a rumpled button-up shirt and wrinkly slacks with a sport coat thrown over it lazily. He was holding an ugly purple tie and looking expectantly at Bucky.

“Wanda!” Bucky called, and she came in, looking between Bucky and Clint. Bucky waved a hand at Clint. “Get your brother and fix that, please.” 

She nodded, quickly looking around the closet, grabbing a few items of clothes, then gently taking Clint by the arm and leading him away despite his protests. Bucky sighed, rubbing his face against one of his softer sweaters, trying to comfort himself. It was gonna be fine. 

He’d actually had a pretty good week, all things considered. He’d convinced Alex and Zola to take him off the DNP, though he’d compromised by agreeing to go on one of Pierce’s crazy-ass diets. No new scandals had come out, which was nice. And Steve. Steve had been nice, too. After Bucky’s little fainting spell, he’d been constantly checking in, doting on Bucky, and generally being sweet. Bucky had never had a boyfriend before, but he thinks that maybe Steve is a really good one. Or, a really good fake boyfriend.

Bucky was excited to see him tonight, even though he dreaded the idea of going to a party that he wasn’t required to go to. There would be lots of people there, lots of people he didn’t know, lot of people who would expect James Winter, Steve’s trashy pop star boyfriend, and not Bucky Barnes, Steve’s… Steve’s Bucky. Plus, he couldn’t even hide next to the snack table, because Pierce sucked. 

Bucky sighed, figuring he should probably get dressed. He couldn’t just hide in his walk-in for the rest of the night. He pulled on a pair of torn-up black hose, then grabbed, a white shirt with a peter pan collar, buttoning it up most of the way. Finally, he pulled on a black skirt, hiking it up to his waist so that it fell just above his knees. He turned side to side, smiling as it brushed against his legs, the flowing movement making him feel pretty. 

He walked to his vanity, tying his hair up into a quick halo braid, then grabbed his eyeliner, going for a smokey-eye look. He found his favorite tube of dark lipstick, applying it, then tucking it into a small clutch. Bucky opened his jewelry box, slipping several black rings over his fingers, grinning when they perfectly matched the shiny black of his fingernails. 

Getting ready like this, wearing fancy clothes and covering his face in makeup felt like putting on armour to Bucky. It made him feel like he was betraying himself, somewhat, but he sort of loved it, slipping into the bulletproof persona of James Winter. 

He pulled on combat boots, then walked into the main room, and even his stride felt confident. 

The twins were arguing with Clint, and Bucky smiled. Wanda was wearing a floral sundress, and Pietro was wearing a romper in the same floral print. James wondered if they’d made the outfits themselves. Between them stood Clint, wearing a pair of leather pants and a tight purple t-shirt with a faded logo and a bomber jacket thrown over the top. 

Bucky laughed delightedly. “Clint!”

He turned to Bucky and Bucky saw that the twins had gotten to his hair, too. It was tousled, and maybe lightly gelled. “Clint, you’re sexy!” 

“See?” Pietro sighed, smacking Clint’s upper arm. 

Clint crossed his arms, making a face. “Shut up.” The tips of his ears turned red. 

Bucky looked at the three of them. “You ready?” He asked. 

The Maximoffs looked at each other, then looked back at Bucky, nodding in unison. Clint was still pouting. Bucky sighed. “I’ll let you drive.” He offered, and Clint perked up excitedly. 

They rolled out, Bucky holding on tightly to the  _ oh shit  _ bar as Clint revved the engine excitedly, taking off into the night towards Greenwich Village. The twins, damn them, just shouted in glee, encouraging Clint to drive faster. 

They made it to where the party was being held, which ended being a large defunct warehouse. The party seemed have been well under way, Bucky could feel the bass pumping several blocks away. He wondered what Ms. Carter had done to avoid the noise ordinances. Clint parked the car and they walked towards the party, where colorful lights were flashing. Wanda and Pietro ran past them, excitedly showing their passes to the bouncer and running inside. Bucky had invited them not only because he was their friend and he knew they’d have fun, but mostly so they could promote themselves. There were plenty of important and powerful people here, and Silver Witch was a good band. Bucky watched them disappear into the mass of people, anxiety churning in his stomach. 

“They’ll be fine.” Clint said, clapping him on the shoulder. He nodded to the bouncer. “James Winter and friend.” 

The bouncer just nodded, unhooking the red velvet rope and ushering them inside. Clint giggled a little giddily, pulling Bucky towards the party. “I’ve never actually seen one of those in real life,” He whispered. “Being rich is awesome.” 

Bucky opened his clutch, grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Steve, letting him know he was there. He nodded along to his music, an interesting mix of what sounded like German R&B and carefree girl pop. James grinned, looking around for the DJ stand and laughing when he saw Gabe Jones with headphones pressed to his ear. 

“Ooh, jello shots!” Clint said, flagging down a girl who had a tray of a diverse mix of brightly colored drinks. He grabbed a green shot, downing it with a cheer, then he took a pink cocktail in a martini glass. The girl turned, offering the tray to Bucky. 

“Uh, no thanks!” Bucky said, over the thrum of the music. “I’m good.” She didn’t seem to hear or understand him, so he just smiled and shook his head. She nodded and kept walking, offering drinks to passersby. 

“Hey!” Steve shouted excitedly, waving enthusiastically. He walked over to Bucky, then stopped, gasping. “Buck, oh my god, you look amazing!” He ran over, picking up Bucky in a hug and spinning him around.

Bucky laughed, pulling back a little and cupping Steve’s face. It was flushed with happiness and probably a little drunkenness. “Hey, Stevie.” He laughed, and Steve pressed his nose to Bucky’s, grinning wildly. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” Clint added, and Steve set Bucky down, turing to look at Clint. He smiled and hugged Clint in greeting. “Oh,” Clint chuckled, carefully holding his drink out of the way. “You’re friendly.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Steve replied cheerfully. 

“He’s a sweet drunk.” Bucky explained, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him off of Clint. “Hey, buddy.” 

“Hey,” Steve said, draping himself over Bucky. “Hey, hey, Bucky. Buck, hey.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, turning to look at Steve. Steve just bent his head, pressing his lips to Bucky’s. Bucky smiled against the kiss, letting Steve plaster himself to Bucky’s side and press quick, sweet, chaste kisses to Bucky’s face. 

Eventually he pulled away from Bucky, still smiling brilliantly. “Come dance with me!” 

“Oh, bud, I don’t know…” Bucky laughed, even as Steve pulled him towards the massive dancefloor. 

“Peggy says I need to sober up before it's my turn on the… my turn to play the music.” Steve said, tugging Bucky close to him. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, then bounded off. 

Bucky turned to see if Clint would be okay without him when he saw his pale, frozen face. “Clint?” He asked, then tried to see what Clint was looking at. 

Natasha was there, far on the other side of the room. looking beautiful in a black dress with her hair flowing over one shoulder. She had the same expression on her face that Clint had now. Pale, petrified, and totally unsure. 

Bucky took the pink cocktail from Clint’s hand, then gave him a firm push towards Natasha. He stumbled, then looked back at Bucky with a terrified face. “Go on.” Bucky said, nodding towards her. “At least talk to her. It's been like, 3 years.”

“Five and a half.” Clint quickly corrected, then looked back at Natasha, blinking. “Kid, I don’t know…”

“C’mon.” Bucky said. “Just say hello. Be civil.” There was something turning in his stomach, and he thought that might have been hope. “Go.” He pushed him once again, and Clint went, nervously walking over to Natasha. 

Bucky looked down at the drink in his hand, then looked at where Steve was dancing- if it could be called that. He was jumping around, waving his limbs wildly. Bucky looked back at the pink drink. 

He knew that part of his persona was a sort of drunken, sex-obsessed kitten. In reality, Bucky rarely drank, or at least, not in public. The somewhat embarrassing truth was that Bucky was a massive lightweight. 

“Bucky!” Steve called, thrashing around. “Come dance with me!”   


Bucky looked up, trying to find Clint. He couldn’t see either him or Natasha anywhere. The twins were gone into the crowd as well. 

He sighed, throwing back the drink. 

He was going to dance.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there is an instance of dubious underage sex and drug use. Stay safe, beauties.

 

The flashing lights, the pulsing music, the warm bodies and the alcohol singing in his blood left Bucky feeling  _ amazing.  _ He wasn’t drunk, but with Steve’s hands on his body, he might as well have been. “Gabe’s music taste is really dope!” He yelled, though Steve didn’t seem to hear him, wrapped around Bucky sleepily. 

Bucky laughed, jabbing Steve’s sides where he knew he was ticklish. Steve jolted with a squeak, then pouted at Bucky. “Mean,” He said plaintively.

“You’re the one who wanted to dance!” Bucky replied, taking Steve’s hands, forcing him to move back and forth. “Dance with me!” 

Steve smiled, letting Bucky pull him to-and-fro. Finally, Bucky huffed, dropping Steve arms. He stood on tiptoe, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. Their noses brushed, and Steve swayed with the music, like a kid at a school dance. Bucky laughed, his breath brushing Steve’s face. 

Everyone else was bouncing to the fast-paced music, while the two of them swayed gently, wrapped around one another like they were the only two people in the world. 

“So,” Bucky said, not really knowing what else he could do.

Steve had none of the same reservations, leaning forward the two millimeters it took to press his lips to Bucky’s. It was so gentle, so innocent and sweet. It was so perfect, so very Steve. Bucky had to pull away, because it  _ hurt. _

He was so very fucked when it came to Steve. Bucky knew, that when the time came, he would have to surrender what little he had here, would have let Steve go. He knew that it would be so painful, and these precious little moments served as reminders of what he stood to lose. 

He pushed down the hurt, focusing on what was in front of him, on what he had now. On Steve’s soft lips, sweet with cherries and gin. He kissed him once again, rubbing his thumb along his cheek. Bucky wished he could live right there, on the spot where Steve’s eyelashes brush his freckled skin. 

Steve smiled at him, tracing his brow tenderly. “You’re so beautiful, Buck.” He murmured, and Bucky bit his lip, trying not to blush. Instead of saying anything, Bucky pulled back, making Steve twirl him around. His skirt flared out, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Steve laughed, pulling Bucky back until they were chest to chest. He leaned down, kissing the top of Bucky’s head. 

“That’s so adorable, I might throw up.” A voice said wryly, and the two of them looked up to see Tony Stark, wearing a nice suit and a pair of sunglasses, even though they were inside.

“Ugh.” Steve said out loud, still too tipsy to check his manners. Bucky lightly elbowed him in the sternum. 

“Tony, hi.” He greeted, voice bubbly and fake. Bucky didn’t feel quite up to other people quite yet, but as far as other people go, Tony wasn’t too intolerable. 

“Huh,” Stark rolled back on his heels, sticking his hands in his pockets. “So you two kids really are…” he gestured between the two of them. “Huh.” He said again. 

Steve puffed up. “What’re you trying to-“ Bucky put a hand on his chest. For some reason, Stark always got on Steve’s nerves. Bucky didn’t know why, or if there was any history there, but there was always growling and snapping when the two of them got together. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Tony.” Bucky said, rubbing his thumb gently along Steve’s collarbone. 

Tony grinned, and Bucky sighed inwardly. He was going to prod at Steve. “So,” he said, looking around the warehouse. He looked back to the two of them, raking his eyes over Bucky’s form appreciatively. It was the sort of look Bucky was more than used to, though Steve’s hand on Bucky’s arm tightened possessively.  “Should we be expecting a show from the two of you tonight? I can’t saw it would go unappreciated.”

“Fuck off, Stark.” Steve growled. 

Tony just smirked, having gotten a rise out of Steve. “Looking forward to the pictures.” 

Bucky blinked, stung. He knew that Tony was nowhere near his friend, but he thought he was at least an ally. Stark had been fucked over by this industry almost as much as Bucky, and they had an understanding of mutual respect, or had least Bucky thought they had. Tony shot him a momentarily apologetic expression before ambling off. 

“What a prick.” Steve muttered, putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Bucky nodded dumbly, unable to do anything but think back.

 

It had been after his first album dropped. A couple of his songs held onto the Billboard Top 100 for a few months, but his hot and fast fame was burning out. 

Then, Alexander sent him to a party, wearing leather pants that he’d hated squeezing into, covered in so much glitter and eyeliner that it should have been a crime. The party supplied him liberally with free drinks. He had been 17, new to fame and naive. He’d still thought Alex had good intentions, and he wasn’t looking for manipulation around every corner.

The alcohol and sweat and music had him on the dance floor grinding against a beautiful, sculpted man. He had been so hot, and Bucky had felt like a giddy virgin as they’d danced. He’d been with a couple boys before, fumbling mutual handjobs in the high school locker room, dry humping until they’d come in their pants, but he’d never  _ been  _ with anyone before. 

Bucky could recount almost every second of it now, picture clear, even though it had all seen so fuzzy at the time. He how the guy dragged his hands along Bucky’s body and he’d laughed awkwardly, not sure if he wanted to hide or throw himself on the man.

“Relax, sweetheart.” The guy had purred, kissing just below his ear. Bucky giggled nervously, a little breathless with the attention. “Here,” He’d said, gripping Bucky’s chin a little forcefully. Heat coursed through him, and then he had kissed Bucky, tongue pushing into his mouth.

Bucky pulled back, making a face at the bitter, chemical sting. “What’s that?” He’d asked, and the guy had laughed, pushing hair out of Bucky’s face, dragging his fingers along his jaw and down his throat.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He chuckled, black-licorice breath brushing softly against Bucky’s lips. “It's a party favor, babe.”  He murmured, then kissed Bucky again. Everything had felt  _ really good  _ after that, every touch so electric, his body so alive, so young, so beautiful. The music was waves that carried him, crashing against this man’s body, their hands cartographers, mapping uncharted territory. 

They had snuck away to the bathrooms for a fuck. The next day, three pictures came out. 

The first, of him on the dancefloor, with his head thrown back on the man’s shoulder, pupils blown and hair sticking to his face with sweat and glitter, the guy’s hand rucking up his shirt, his lips on Bucky’s neck. The second had been of Bucky being pulled in for a kiss with one hand on his ass and another fisted in his hair. The third had been of him being fucked against the bathroom wall, as if the photographer had taken the picture as he was at the peak of the pleasure. 

After the pictures had gone viral, Bucky’s songs were back at the top of the charts, and he became a household name.

The pictures were on the cover of every trash celebrity magazine and website, published by a bunch of shit rags that called themselves news. One particularly charming headline had read: WINTER IS COMING

The pictures had basically cemented Bucky’s image as an artist. He was now and forever would be the wanton whore, covered in glitter and leather, ready to be taken at any moment. 

No one cared that he’d been 17, or that he’d lost his virginity high and drunk off his ass to a stranger. No one cared that after the pictures had been published, he’d cried himself sick in the studio’s bathroom, locking himself in until Alexander had coaxed him out. No one cared that he was a kid, and that his first time was being plastered on every media outlet, fucking trending on Twitter. No one cared that he was humiliated. 

Interestingly enough, the guy in the pictures was never found, maybe because there was never a clear enough image of him. Sure, everyone speculated, but no one knew for sure. No one knew that his name was Brock Rumlow, and that he worked for HYDRA Entertainment as Alexander’s bodyguard. 

Realizing that had been the first time Bucky had seen the strings. The first time he realized what a pretty little marionette he made.  

 

“Buck?” Steve asked again, squeezing his shoulders slightly. “Are you okay?”

Bucky shook himself out of his memories, smiling at Steve. “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” 

“C’mere,” Steve took his hand, leading him off the dancefloor. They walked over to the bar, where Steve signalled for two waters. The bartender compiled, and Bucky sighed with relief as the ice cold drink is pressed into his hand. He held to water against his throat for a moment, letting the condensation drip against his skin, cooling him off. 

Steve had already drained his glass, setting it back down on the bar. He watched Bucky with dark eyes, as if drinking in his appearance. It wasn’t the lust filled expression that Bucky was used to from those who surveyed him, but something deeper. Bucky looked away, staring into the glass. 

“Alright everybody!” A loud voice cheered, and almost everyone turned their attention to Gabe, who was standing behind the turntables. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for!” 

Bucky finished his water, putting down. Steve was grinning excitedly, though his fingers were drumming nervously against the bar. 

“Now, it's the end of my turn here,” Gabe said and several people, including Steve replied with a disappointed “aw…” Gabe chuckled. “I know, I know, it's heartbreaking. But, you all get to hear, for the very first time, the first single from our new album, Shielded!” 

The was a cacophonous cheer, and Gabe smiled, taking off his headphones and hitting a button on the rig. A slow, pretty guitar melody started, and Bucky smiled. He’d always sort of loved the Howling Commandos’ slower, softer songs. 

Steve’s voice came over the speakers, which was unusual. He often delegated himself as backup, rarely taking the lead. It was low and raspy when he sang, and it sent a low heat throughout Bucky’s (and probably several teenage fangirls’) body. 

_ “I fell without a parachute/You’re a sweet forbidden fruit”  _ Bucky glanced sideways at Steve, who was examining the floor, a deep red blush on his cheeks. He was so adorable, Bucky thought. Steve had been performing for five years, yet he was still so shy about being heard, and especially being praised.

Bucky lifted up Steve’s arm, tucking himself underneath it. Steve smiled down at him sheepishly, and Bucky kissed him, just because he could. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All views on Stephen Colbert are my own. 
> 
> btw, my fashion icon for all of Bucky's looks is [barbiegutz](https://www.instagram.com/barbiegutz/?hl=en). you should check their shit out

Steve  _ hated  _ touring. He hated press junkets, he hated smiling for the camera, hated the long trips, hated the hotel rooms. Sure, concerts were fun; playing for a sold-out crowd got the blood rising and the adrenaline rushing. Their fans were so kind, so loving and sweet, if a little rambunctious.

“What’s on tap today?” Steve asked, scrolling through his laptop and eating his lukewarm room service breakfast. Peggy was sitting on her bed, wrapped in the hotel’s bathrobe, hair in a towel as she painted her nails delicately. 

Their sleeping arrangements had been pretty concrete since they’d first started touring. It was very particular to make sure no one tried to murder each other. No one could room with Gabe and Jacques, since they always fucked after concerts. Dum Dum and Jim could only remain civil with one another if Monty or Steve was there as a buffer, and Monty and Peggy couldn’t room together after the Great and Terrible Boxing Day Incident of 2016. So Dum Dum, Monty, and Jim roomed together, and Steve stayed with Peggy. As a system, it had worked so far. 

“Mm. You have an interview with Buzzfeed at 11, a taping of Kimmel in the afternoon, and then we’re heading out to San Francisco. Make sure you’re packed.” She blew on her fingernails, dark blue and shiny. 

“Mmkay,” He said, taking his glasses off. He went to the bathroom, putting in his contacts in. As he started brushing his teeth, his phone buzzed, and he grinned, pulling it out of his back pocket. Bucky had sent him an article titled:  _ 10 Reasons Steve Rogers and James Winter Are Our Relationship Goals _

Steve snorted, clicking on the link as he spat out his toothpaste. It was mostly a collection of photos of the two of them being affectionate, along with little captions like  _ “they support each other”  _ and  _ “they know how to make each other laugh”  _

Steve texted Bucky back, saying:  _ this is just pictures of us w/ descriptions of the bare minimum of what it takes to be in a relationship. _

Bucky replied with a _ :  _ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Steve ran the tap, laughing at his phone. 

The two of them had been texting back and forth. Bucky sent Steve little things that he found on the internet, and Steve texted whenever he missed Bucky, which was often. It was almost like normal, back before the contract, when both of them had been working, trying to figure out when they might be in the same town. 

_ I’m going on Kimmel tonight.  _ Steve texted him, pulling off his undershirt and putting on his short-sleeved white button down that Peggy had reassured him was very Californian.

_ Oh god.  _ Bucky replied.  _ Pls don’t tell this one that I want to fuck him.  _

Steve chuckled, already typing his reply when Peggy looked up at him, beckoning him over. 

“Steve? Come be a dear and do my zipper, will you?” She asked, and he dutifully complied. Her dressed matched the pretty blue of her nail polish. “You don’t need to text them, you know,” She added, turning to face him. “I’ve already called their rooms.” 

Steve shook his head, sending:  _ Hey, its not my fault to you said to me, and I quote “Colbert can fucking get it” you looser.  _  “No, I’m not texting the boys, I’m talking to Bucky.” 

_ YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO TELL HIM THAT  _ was Bucky’s immediate reply. Peggy made a face. “Is that so?” She asked lightly. His phone buzzed once again with the message:   _ And you didn’t need to imply that I had a Steve kink on national television!  _

“Ha!” Steve smiled down, thumbs quickly pecking out a response. “Yeah, just, y’know- checking in.”  _ Well, it's the truth. Steve Rogers, Stephen Colbert, Steve Irwin… _

“Checking in?” Peggy repeated dryly, walking past him so she could peer into the mirror, grabbing her makeup bag. 

_ I told you that in confidence!!!  _ Bucky texted.  _ My twitter feed is a ruined wasteland of Steves, you asshole. _

Steve huffed, biting down on his smile. “Yeah, just, like- talking.” He said with a shrug. “Like how you and Angie call each other every night.” 

“Yes, but Steve-” Peggy sighed, making eye contact with him through the mirror and setting down her lipstick. “Angie and I are married. You and James…” she shook her head, looking back at her reflection and applying mascara. “I just don’t think I quite understand.” 

“What is there to understand?” Steve asked, trying not to feel hurt. Peggy probably meant well. 

“Are the two of you…” She trailed off, rubbing blush on her cheeks. “This contract, it's impermanent. Before you were caught, were you truly together? The way Pierce described it-” She cut herself off, shaking her head. She zipped up her makeup bag. “I guess I ought to take anything that man says with a grain of salt.” 

Steve thought about it for a moment. “We were together, sure. I mean, not fully together, we couldn’t have been, not really. We were sneaking around, almost like teenagers.” He smiled fondly. “But, y’know, it wasn’t just sex. We enjoy each other’s company. We’re... friends. Good friends.”

“And when the three months are over?” She asked, still not looking at Steve. He shrugged, looking on his nightstand for his watch. 

“We’ll stay friends, I guess.” He said, twisting the dial on his watch. He had forgotten to switch time zones. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peggy pursing her lips. He could almost hear Bucky in his head, laughing at him for being so goddamn optimistic. Steve pulled out his duffle bag, stuffing his sleep clothes and laptop inside.  _ There, _ he thought.  _ I’m packed.  _

Steve picked up his bass, slinging it over his shoulder. “We better head out.”

 

-

 

After he got no reply, he tossed the phone onto to couch, grabbing the TV remote. For the first time in what felt like week, his apartment was empty. Wanda and Pietro were god knows where doing god knows what, and Clint was out to lunch with Natasha. 

They had been catching up since last week, and as much as Bucky was rooting for them, he wasn’t about to let Natasha snoop around his apartment. 

“Kimmel, Kimmel,” Bucky muttered, flipping through the channels. “When is Kimmel even on? Fuckin… Alexa? When the fuck is Jimmy Kimmel on?”

_ “11:35 pm.”  _ A robotic voice answered. 

“Cool.” Bucky muttered, the frowned. “Alexa? What channel is Jimmy Kimmel on?” This was why he only watched the New York based talk shows. 

_ “Jimmy Kimmel Live is on ABC.” _ It replied, and Bucky felt glad that no one else was there to see this. He felt a little like a stalker. He’d been tracking the Howling Commandos’ press schedule like he was planning on assassinating one of them. Finally, he was able to figure out how to record this night’s episode of Kimmel. He knew that Steve would get asked questions about him. Interviewers were unfairly focused on Steve and Bucky rather than Shielded.

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it embarrassingly quickly. Instead of a text from Steve, it was one from Sam, asking how he was doing. Bucky sighed, they typed a quick reply. Sam had come by a couple times, just checking up on him.

Sam had dated Natasha for a while in high school, and he stayed close with them even after she broke up with him. After he’d ended up in the hospital after the last time Pierce had put him on DNP, he had designated himself as Bucky’s personal nurse. Neither of them really got along with each other all that much, but they cared about each other. 

Now, Bucky had to convince him that he was  _ fine _ . That seemed to be his whole existence these days, convincing the people close to him that he was just fine. 

He sighed, walking to the fridge and grabbing a stalk of celery. Bucky closed the door with his hip, looking at his phone and taking a vicious bite of the celery. His twitter was more of a mess than normal, but people were being unusually kind. As much as Bucky hated Alexander’s methods, they seemed to work. Being on Steve’s arm had a strange effect on the way people perceived him. Maybe it was Steve’s natural affability, the way people just couldn’t just help but love him- that sort of golden glow must have rubbed off on Bucky, like he had absorbed trace amounts of it by osmosis.

Bucky finished his stick of celery, then headed down to the apartment’s gym. He put in his earphones and listened to Shielded, because in all reality, it was a bomb ass album. After the drop party, he had gone online, looking at all websites that ran headlines like,  _ IS THIS HOWLING COMMANDOS SONG ABOUT JAMES WINTER? _  He even went on the tumblrs that analysed each lyric of each song. 

After about an hour and a half of working out, the door to the gym opened. This was strange, because usually Bucky was the only person who was ever there. 

“Oh,” The man who walked in looked a little surprised. His head was tilted to the side curiously. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.”  Bucky tried not to sigh. This was why he enjoyed the perpetually abandoned gym. There was no awkward small talk or pleasantries to deal with. He could just turn up his music really loud and push himself until there were no thoughts in his head. 

“It's fine.” Bucky said with what he hoped was a welcoming smile. He was flushed, wearing simple muscle shirt and a pair of black yoga pants, and he had no makeup on. As the man walked cautiously into the room, Bucky silently prayed that he wouldn’t be recognized. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” The man said, voice friendly. Then he laughed. “Well, not see,” He gestured toward his eyes with a self-deprecating chuckle. Bucky frowned in confusion until he explained, “I’m blind.” 

“Oh.” Bucky said. “Yeah, I, uh, I travel a lot, so I don’t really hang out here all that much.” The man ran his hand along the wall, feeling his way to punching bags near the back, nodding as he listened. “I’m Bucky.”

“Matt,” He replied with a small smile. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. Part of him was suspicious, part of him was always suspicious that any given person he met was one of Pierce’s spies. Still, Matt had a friendly face that Bucky wanted to trust. “I only just moved in with my partner a few months ago. Makes sense that I haven’t met everybody just yet.” 

Bucky snorted. “You might not want to. Some of the rich pricks that live in this building can be hard to get along with.” 

Matt let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. He was cute, in a kicked puppy sort of way, though not really Bucky’s type. He smiled in Bucky’s direction. “How do you know I’m not one of the rich pricks? How do I know  _ you’re  _ not a rich prick?” He stretched out his fingers, finding the bag. His hands were wrapped expertly. He threw a sharp punch, hitting the bag at center mass. It was impressive.   


Bucky shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.” The bag swung, and Matt stepped back, only narrowly avoiding getting hit. “You want me to hold the bag?”

“Sure,” Matt said easily. Bucky hopped off his machine, going over to brace the punching bag. “You haven’t mentioned my blindness,” He prompted, then hit the bag again.

Bucky had to steady it more than he’d anticipated. “Should I have?” Matt threw a series of strong punches, and Bucky struggled to hold the bag. 

“Most people do,” Matt between blows. “Or they awkwardly avoid it. But you didn’t bring it up at all.” 

“Well,” Bucky said, a little uncomfortably by his bluntness. “Maybe I’m just relieved. I could have a really fucked-up face or something.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he worried that it was inappropriate or offensive. Thankfully, Matt just laughed.

“You know what? Now that I think about it, I might’ve heard your voice before.” He said, then delivered a series of kicks to the bag. “Now that you’re not so winded, you sound kinda familiar.” 

“You sure I’m not winded?” Bucky asked as the guy continued to beat the shit out of the punching bag. It looked pretty therapeutic. “You’re going pretty hard. I’m just glad I’m not the bag.” 

Matt’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so delicate.” 

“Hey, fuck you man, I’m a dainty little flower.” Bucky laughed. “But seriously, what’re you, a blind boxer?”

Matt shook his head, though he eased up on his blows. “Nah, just a blind lawyer.” 

“Ah, so you  _ are  _ a rich prick.” Bucky said, and Matt chuckled. 

They kept going, Matt working his way methodically through a series of reps. Eventually, the punches tapered off and he frowned, tilting his head. “Are you hungry?” He asked seriously, and Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” He asked in confusion. 

Matt smirked. “Your stomach’s been growling for the last five rounds.”

Bucky blushed, looking down at he stomach in betrayal. “Really?” He asked in mortification. 

“My hearing’s pretty good,” Matt said, unwrapping his hands. “You wanna go grab lunch?” 

Bucky considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, I’m on a diet. Maybe next time, man.”

“Alright,” Matt smiled. “I’m on the 12th floor, apartment C. If you ever need a lawyer.” 

Bucky laughed. “Thanks. I’m in 14A. If you ever need…” He trailed off. “If you ever need someone to steady your bag.” 

“Sure.” Matt held out his hand, and Bucky took it with a firm shake. 

 

-

 

The next day, Bucky was in the studio. It felt good to be recording again. He didn’t get to write most of his own songs (apparently his style didn’t quite match with the label's image of him) but he still loved music. 

“That’s a wrap for today, James!” The producer called, and Bucky slipped off his headphones, giving him a thumbs-up. He sighed as Alexander walked into the producer’s booth and gestured for him to come out. 

Bucky followed Pierce out of the studio and into the offices. He had a tight set to his shoulders that didn’t bode well for Bucky. The door shut behind him with a sharp click, and Bucky turned to see Rumlow leaning against the wall. There was that smug, sneering expression on his face that made Bucky’s hands curl into fists. 

He stayed quiet, waiting for Pierce to talk first. It was best to wait to speak until spoken to in these situations. 

“So, it’s been almost a month,” Pierce said, settling down into his desk chair. He nodded at the chair across from him and Bucky sat. He hated that the position of the chair put Rumlow directly behind him, out of his line of site, but Bucky was wise enough to know that Rumlow wasn’t the biggest shark in the room. 

Bucky just nodded in acquiescence. Pierce’s lips curled in a facsimile in a smile. “So, how has the first third of your little romance been?” 

That was a question. He should answer. “Good. People seem to like-”

“Yes, the two of you are just  _ adorable, _ aren’t you?” Alexander said, and it sounded like there was something distasteful in his mouth. 

Bucky nodded again, hoping Pierce wouldn’t mistake his silence for insolence. Luckily, he seemed to be in one of his ranting moods. 

“That album has certainly been taking off. I hope that manager of theirs respects my contribution to their success.” 

Bucky held his tongue, keeping himself from saying anything like  _ the Howling Commandos are the most successful boy band since One Direction. I think they’ve been doing just fine without your help, asshole.  _ He simply tuned out whatever Pierce was saying so that he didn’t get pissed off and get himself into even more trouble. 

He was able to distract himself by watching the angry pulse of the vein in Alexander’s head. It was fascinating. Or, it was, until two large hands fell heavily on his shoulders.

Bucky startled, skin crawling as he felt Rumlow’s breath on the back of his neck. “Mr. Pierce asked you a question, sweetheart.”

He looked up, meeting Alexander’s eyes. There was something there, that superior look in his eyes that he had whenever he felt sure in his absolute possession of Bucky. “I need an answer, James. You aren’t developing feelings for this talentless hack, are you?”

Bucky quickly shook his head. He knew how to play this game. He’d been playing it since he’d first met Steve. There was one rule: don’t let Pierce use Steve against you. “No. Of course not.” 

“Are you certain? The two of you looked pretty cozy at the Shielded drop party.” Pierce said, gaze burning into Bucky’s skin.

Bucky let himself smirk, let himself scoff. “Please. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. He’s a good enough fuck, but Golden Boy Eagle Scout isn’t really my type.”

“No, you like ‘em tall, dark, and dirty, don’t ya, babe?” Rumlow purred, lips nearly on his neck. Bucky tried not to shudder, looking over at Pierce for help. Alexander held up a warning finger and Rumlow backed off. Bucky relaxed the slightest bit. 

Pierce gave him an appraising look. “Alright. I expect that the rest of this ordeal will run smoothly. You’re dismissed.” 

Bucky nearly bolted out of there. He barely glanced back until he was four blocks away from the HYDRA building. Once he was around the corner, he put his hands on his knees, panting. It wasn’t that the run was exhausting, but he was completely unable to breathe. His hands were shaking, and he felt slightly woozy, though that might have been because his extremely restrictive diet. “Fuck.” He muttered, trying to get himself under control. “Fuck.”

He grabbed his phone, wanting to call Steve. He just wanted to hear his voice, just wanted to hear him say Bucky’s name. 

  
Instead he was greeted with the headline:  _ HOWLING COMMANDOS MEMBER STEVE ROGERS GROPED ONSTAGE _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also as I post this, there are 69 comments. Nice.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see Black Panther

Once Steve managed to get all of his bandmates and roadies to leave him alone, he laid down on his hotel bed, covering his eyes with his forearm. He was completely fine. One teenage girl rushing the stage and trying to pull his pants off wasn’t the end of the world, it was just a little embarrassing.

As his phone began to ring, he sighed, about to pick it up and tell whoever was on the other line that he was fine _,_ that he just needed a few moments to himself, when he realized that the ringtone was _Nice Enough,_ his favorite James Winter song.

“Hey,” He said, smiling as he heard a soft rustle on the other end of the line. “What’re doing up? It's like,” Steve glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Two in the morning in New York.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.” Bucky murmured. “Can I facetime you?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “You’re gonna have to do it, you know I don’t how…” He trailed off as the call switch to video. “Hi.”

Bucky was sitting in bed, shirtless. He smiled when he saw Steve. “Hey. It’s good to see your face.”

“You too.” Steve said, sighing heavily. He could already feel the weight of the day lifting off of his chest. “It's been a day.” Bucky nodded, unconsciously twirling his hair between his fingers. It was something he did to comfort himself when he was upset.

“I heard.” Bucky said quietly. “How’re you doing?” He was soft and sweet, and Steve wished that he was there, with Bucky, instead of alone in the fifth hotel room of the week.

Steve shrugged one shoulder, smiling at the phone. “I’m alright. A day in the life of a boybander, right?”

“Still,” Bucky’s mouth twisted into a grim line. “It's shitty that they treat you like that, that they objectify you.” He was gazing into the middle distance, and Steve didn’t point out the obvious, that _everyone_ seemed to objectify Bucky. Steve smiled gently at him.

“How was your day?” He asked, wanting that nervous look in Bucky’s eyes to disappear. Bucky shrugged, still twisting a long strand of hair around a finger.

“It was alright. I was in the studio all day.” He said, blinking tiredly. “Recording primary tracks for the new album, working with the producer, you know…”

Steve nodded, though he always recorded with the rest of the band. “Who’s your producer? Pierce?”

Bucky shook his head. “Pierce gets label listing as producer, but he’s got next to no musical talent. He’s got a good ear, but…” He rubbed his eyes. “He’s no artist.”

“Wonder why he got into the music business,” Steve said, though he’d met several stuffy suits like Pierce throughout his career as a musician.

“I dunno.” Bucky muttered. “But like, he’s great at politics, and he can manipulate the industry like nobody’s business. I wouldn't be surprised if he was genetically engineered in a lab somewhere specifically to manage pop stars.”

Steve chuckled quietly. “Are you doing okay, though? You look… tired.” He wanted to say that Bucky looked unhappy, but he didn’t want to upset him further.

“I mean, as you pointed out, it _is_ two in the morning.” Bucky said with a wry smile. There were a few moments of silence as they both looked at each other until Bucky frowned. “Hey, where’s Peggy?”

Steve smiled. “I’m on my own tonight. Angie’s parents live in the Bay Area, and she flew up so that all of them could spend time together, so Peg’s with them.”

“That’s sweet.” Bucky said, sounding completely sincere.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “It’s times like these I really miss my mom.”

Bucky looked at him then, gaze no less intense through the phone’s screen. “Are you really okay, Stevie?” He asked, voice quiet.

“I’m-” _Fine,_ he wanted to say, but Bucky looked so earnest. “I’m just feeling a little wrung out. I hate touring.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Bucky said, then grinned slowly. “I think last time you were on the press circuit was that time in Chicago when you fell asleep while you were still inside me."

“Shut up, no I didn't.” Steve blushed. “I was just… closing my eyes for a second.”

Bucky was full-on laughing, now. “You were snoring.” His eyes crinkled, and Steve smiled. He was so beautiful, Steve thought.

“I’ll be fine when we can stop doing interviews, stop promoting the album and just-just play.” Steve said. “It's just so exhausting to be so… so _on_ all the time, you know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Yeah, I know. I, uh, I met someone yesterday who didn’t recognize me. It was refreshing as fuck, man. I had, like, a normal human interaction for the first time since I left high school.”

“They really didn’t recognize you?” Steve scoffed. “Our faces are all over the internet. What, were they blind?”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Yeah, actually. His name is Matt. He lives in my building.”

“Oh,” Steve felt a little flustered. “Uh,”

Bucky kept laughing at him. “You dork, your fucking face right now.”

“Well!” Steve laughed hysterically, face red, sending Bucky into further peels of laughter.

He covered his face with one of his hands, still giggling quietly. “Oh, man.” Bucky finally sighed. “I fucking miss you.”

“I miss you too, Buck.” Steve told him with a small smile.

Bucky looked at him, a small, fake pout on his face. “When are you coming home?”

“The end of August,” Steve said, though he knew that Bucky was well aware of that. Before he went on tour, Steve always sent Bucky the Commandos’ schedule.

Bucky let out a hefty, unhappy sigh. Steve rolled his eyes at his dramatics. “We’ll probably see each other before then. Our managers will probably want more opportunities for the two of us to be seen together.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Bucky muttered, eyes drooping tiredly. “I just like being at home with you. I like sleeping at your place. I like seeing you in your natural habitat.”

Steve smiled, affection rising in his chest. Bucky was so sweet when he was tired. Steve remembered, a year or so back, one time they’d met up after one of Bucky’s concerts in Austin, and Bucky had been exhausted. After he had showered off the glitter and sweat and after his adrenaline high had worn off, he had simply curled up against Steve, like a particularly affectionate cat. It had been the first time they’d spent the night together without sex, and the night Steve fell in love with Bucky.

“Goodnight, Buck.” Steve said, smiling as Bucky struggled to remain awake. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Bucky replied. “Bye.” He didn’t hang up, just blinked sleepily at his phone. Steve chuckled, though he was also hesitant to end the call. He just watched as Bucky slowly drifted, off, eyes closing and face going lax as his grip on the phone loosened.

“Bye,” Steve whispered, then pressed the end call button.

 

-

 

Not much happened the following week. The two of them continued to speak, Steve made his way through the Pacific Northwest as Bucky stayed holed up in his studio. On Friday, the music video for one of his more popular songs off of _Your Drug_ dropped.

Bucky had filmed it late last year, and he hadn’t seen the final cut of it before it's release. He usually let Pierce do all the leg work for that sort of thing. Bucky was supremely uninterested in the maintaining and upkeep of his image, but he guessed that what Pierce was for, and Bucky had to admit, he was pretty genius at it.

He hadn’t been kidding when he had told Steve that Pierce was master manipulator, and as he watched the music video it was starkly clear.

When they’d filmed it, he’d followed the usual format. He had dressed in an array of sexy, tight fitting clothes, with makeup and glitter to go along with each look, and grinded against back-up dancers as he mouthed along to the song.

But watching the final cut signaled the drastic tonal shift in how people perceived Bucky these days.

It only had the shots of him where he was well covered, more elegant than sexual. In the shots of him dancing, he only seemed to dance with blond, broad shouldered men. It was far less suggestive than usual, and almost sweet, almost romantic. “Ugh,” Bucky closed his laptop in disgust.

Pietro looked up at him, frowning. _“S Vami vse normal'no?”_ He’d been hanging around the apartment, moping around as Wanda was out on a date.

“I’m fine.” Bucky muttered, standing and stretching. “I’m gonna go for a walk. You need me to grab anything while I’m out?”

Pietro seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, “Some candy.”

“Chocolatey or fruity?” Bucky asked.

He didn’t even stop to think about it. “Fruity.”

“You got it.” Bucky confirmed, grabbing his jacket and slipping in his earbuds. He took the stairs to the street level. He wasn’t even exactly sure why he was upset. There was nothing offensive about the video, it was actually pretty tame as far as James Winter was concerned. Still, the blatant manipulation annoyed him.

Bucky walked along the pavement, hands deep in his pockets. He had his shoulders slumped, his hair in his face, and sunglasses on. Hopefully no one would bother him.

He walked about a mile and a half, then popped into a small bodega, buying a handful of airheads for Pietro and a bottle of cherry seltzer for himself. The girl at the counter boredly rang up his purchases, then reminded him of the ten dollar credit card limit. He sighed silently to himself, grabbing a pack of gum and after a few moments of consideration, some cigarettes.

Bucky thanked her and walked out of the store, already putting one of the smokes in his mouth. He held it between his lips as he patted his pockets, searching for his lighter.

“Here,” A gruff voice said, holding out a light. Bucky looked up to see Rumlow. He sighed, leaning in and holding the end of the cigarette to the small flame.

Bucky took a long drag, blowing the smoke directly into Brock’s face. He didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow. “You spyin’ on me now?” Bucky asked.

“Boss wanted someone to keep an eye on you.” Rumlow said with an unrepentant shrug. “He’s out of town.”

“Yeah, and I bet you were _so_ bummed out at the chance to follow me around.” Bucky said wryly, heading back to his apartment. This walk wasn’t going the way he’d planned at all. The tension was seeping back into his shoulders.

Rumlow just smirked, following him. Bucky prefered being able to keep him in his line of sight, so he slowed until Rumlow was keeping pace next to him rather than following a few steps behind. “So,” Bucky tried, uncomfortable with Brock’s eyes on him. “Where’s Alex?”

“You got another smoke?” Brock asked, and Bucky wordlessly offered him the open pack. He grabbed Bucky’s hand, raising it to his mouth and taking a cigarette between his teeth. Bucky roughly pulled his hand away, stuffing it into his pocket. Rumlow just lit the cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. “Pierce is at a board meeting with the rest of the HYDRA fat cats. He wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t get yourself in any trouble while he was gone.”

Bucky wanted to protest, ask what sort of trouble he could possibly get into, but relented. Brock had bought into the James Winter exterior with the rest of the world, had never tried to get to know Bucky after that first fuck. He just tried to get back into his pants. Bucky just got out his phone, sending a quick text to Pietro. _Rumlow’s with me. We’re heading back._

 _fuck._ Was Pietro’s reply. _that guy fucking sucks._

His phone buzzed again. _leave my candy in the pantry. i’ll come back for it._ Bucky snorted.

“You texting your big, blond fuckbuddy?” Rumlow asked snidely, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, just took another long drag of his cigarette as he texted Pietro back. Rumlow just huffed out an annoyed breath. Instead of replying, he just put his earbuds back in, turning the music up loudly.

Brock’s presence made Bucky uneasy, but in no way was Bucky afraid of him. He had dealt with Pierce for almost four years now, and between that and growing up in foster care, he had needed to learn the difference between a snarling puppy and a circling wolf pretty quick.

They walked back to the apartment in silence, Bucky ignoring Rulow’s smug, side-long glances. He put out his cigarette, going through the plastic bag and pulling out the pack of gum. It was gross, cheap and chemically fruity, but the kind of gum that was good for blowing bubbles, which he did.

He pushed open the door to his building open, annoyance seething as Rumlow brazenly followed him inside. Bucky didn’t want Rumlow in his home, so he stalled by swinging by the mailroom.

Mrs. Yu, the young wife of an older CFO of a Fortune 500 company was there, and she smiled shyly at him as he walked in. Matt was also there, wearing a suit and shuffling through his mail with an exasperated expression on his face. Bucky couldn’t help but smile when he saw him. He had a massive friend-crush on the guy.

“Hey man, looking sharp.” Bucky said, sidling up to his mailbox, which was a few feet away from Matt’s. “It’s Bucky,” He added helpfully.

Matt smiled in his direction, dark red glasses glinting in the light. “Hey, Bucky. How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know,” Bucky shrugged, unlocking his mailbox. “Can’t complain.” Brock made a scoffing sound and Matt tilted his head.

“Who’s your friend?” He asked politely, turning his head towards Brock.

Bucky flipped through his mail. It was mostly junk, a few bills, and two postcards. One from Portland and one from Seattle. Bucky smiled to himself, holding the mail to his chest. “I wouldn’t call him a friend, but this is Brock. We… work together.”

“We work together real well.” Rumlow purred, draping his arm over Bucky’s shoulder. He turned to look at Bucky, smoke stained breath wafting unpleasantly over his face. “And who says we ain’t friends?”

“Get the fuck off of me,” Bucky said, voice quiet and deadly serious. Matt shouldn’t have been able to hear him, but he straightened anyway, skilled boxer’s hands curling into fists. Rumlow just chuckled, pressing a wet kiss to the side of his face before letting him go.

Bucky shuddered, pushing him away and shutting the mailbox with more force than necessary. “It was nice seeing you again, Matt.” He said through gritted teeth, feeling Brock’s burning eyes on him. Matt gave him a look, jaw flexing in aggravation. It was like he was wordlessly asking Bucky if he needed him to do anything.

Bucky just forced out a smile that he knew Matt wouldn’t be able to see. “Let me know if you need a spotter next time you hit the gym, yeah?” He added lightly, so the man wouldn’t worry. He walked out of the mailroom, Brock on his heels.

“Are you really gonna follow me all the way to my fucking apartment?” Bucky snapped.

Rumlow gave him a toothy grin. “You want me to?”

“No, I fucking-” Bucky sighed loudly, running his free hand through his hair. “Go the fuck away, Brock. I’ll call the cops if I have to.” It wouldn’t be the first time he had needed to call the police on one of Pierce’s goons. It wouldn’t be the first time he had needed to call the police on _Rumlow._

Brock just smiled, raising his hands like he was humoring a child. “Alright, babe. You just let me know if you get lonely.”

Bucky just scoffed in disgust, flipping him off. He walked to the elevator, repeatedly pressing the call button until it dinged cheerfully and the doors slid open. Bucky stepped inside, glaring at Rumlow’s smiling form until the doors closed and he was safe. He relaxed against the elevator wall, turning the postcards over so he could see Steve’s cramped, messy handwriting.

Fucking Pierce. Bucky was clearly being punished for something. Pierce never left Bucky alone with Rumlow unless he had done something wrong. Bucky scrambled his brain to figure out what he had done, but couldn’t figure it out. Maybe Pierce was just as angry about the altered video as he was. Maybe Pierce was just bored after a day of travel and wanted to wind Bucky up and watch him go.

Either way, Pietro wasn’t getting his fucking candy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really. Go see Black Panther


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... the chapter number went up. I guess I wanted to give Steve and Bucky a nice day before the inevitable angst.

 

_ @HowlingSteve says:  _

_ Life on the road. Thanks for the awesome show Vancouver! _

_ (image attached) _

_ | _

_ @therealJamesWinter replied: _

_ Unfair.  _

_ | _

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ What’d I do now?  _

_ | _

_ @therealJamesWinter replied: _

_ You can’t post cute pictures when you’re 3000 miles away :(  _

_ | _

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ (image attached)  _

|

@ _ therealJamesWinter replied: _

_...well played, Rogers _

-

_ @TeenVogue says:  _

_ 18 Tweets That Prove James Winter and Steve Rogers Are Soulmates _

_ [ _ _ link _ _ ] _

 

_ @PinkNews says: _

_ Steve Rogers and James Winter are having a thirst trap competition, and we’re the real winners  _

_ [ _ _ link _ _ ] _

 

_ @BuzzFeedEnt retweeted- _

_ @BuzzFeedLBGT: _

_ We’re in love with their love! A James Winter Steve Rogers appreciation post _

_ [ _ _ link _ _ ] _

_ - _

_ @HowlingSteve says: _

_ Missing New York  _

_ | _

_ @therealJamesWinter replied: _

_ I bet you are. _

|

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ I’m rolling my eyes at you _

|

_ @therealJamesWinter replied: _

_ oh no. how will i ever recover? _

|

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ :p  _

_ - _

_ @givenchyass says: _

_ when you realize that the illuminati/project mk ultra people who own james winter are gonna ruin your favorite boyband (a conspiracy thread) _

 

_ @foggywithachance says: _

_ i think i just saw James Winter????? #blessed _

_ (gif attached)  _

 

_ @katiehawkeye says: _

_ Saw Howling Commandos with bae! Ignore her face, she had fun @missamericana _

_ (image attached) _

_ - _

_ @therealJamesWinter says:  _

_ Another day in the studio! #solstice _

_ (image attached) _

_ | _

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ [shocked face emoji] [heart emoji] [musical note emoji] _

_ | _

_ @therealJamesWinter replied: _

_ omg shut your cute face… _

_ | _

_ @HowlingSteve replied: _

_ [heart eyes emoji] _

 

_ - _

 

Bucky bounced on the balls of his feet, giddy with excitement. He hadn’t seen Steve in almost five weeks, and he’d been locked in the studio for about half of that, preparing for the eminent release of his upcoming single. The album will drop in the winter. His albums always dropped in the winter, because Pierce thought it was clever.

But now, Bucky was gonna see Steve in three days. The Howling Commandos were performing at Madison Square Garden and Bucky felt like a teenage girl whose parents were taking her out of school early to see her favorite boy band. 

He had excess nerves, and there was only so much working out he could do before he collapsed from exhaustion. So he sat at the piano, composing. He knew that he would probably be the only person who would ever hear these songs, other than maybe Clint, but he loved writing music more than anything else. 

Bucky found closed his eyes and found something happy, something light and sweet and golden. The song was beautiful, so he smiled and named it Steve. 

 

-

 

“Dude, would you chill the hell out?” 

The airplane arrangements were different than the hotel arrangements. Peggy sits with Monty, because Monty always takes a pill and passes out, so Peggy just sits in the aisle and works on her laptop. Gabe and Jacques always sat together, leaning on one another as they dozed the way only people travelling can. Dum Dum was a nervous flyer and no one could stand to sit with him, so he got his own seats. That left Steve with Jim, and they usually just sat in silence, reading or listening to music. 

“Sorry.” Steve muttered, willing his leg to stop bouncing. He glanced out the window, hoping to see the telltale skyline of New York. Instead, all he could see was clouds and some tiny suburbs. He sighed, checking the time. It was 6:30 in the morning. He still had about and hour to go until he was in New York. 

Morita sighed. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Sorry,” Steve repeated. He opened the book in his hands, staring blankly at the words, unable to comprehend any of them through his combined excitement and exhaustion. Eventually, Jim sighed heavily, closing his book, taking off his glasses, and turning to Steve. 

“What the hell is going on with you, man?” He asked, looking deeply unimpressed. 

Steve made a face, resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Jim. Instead, he just crosses his arms in front of his chest protectively. “Nothing.” 

Jim just raised an eyebrow. They’ve all known each other too long to take any bullshit. “Fine,” Steve sighed. “I’m just… I’m anxious to land. Bucky’s waiting for me.”

“Huh.” Morita said. “You and him, you’re really…”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling a little. “Yeah, we’re really-” He trailed off, still unsure how to finish that sentence. “You know,” he finished with an awkward shrug. 

“I don’t, actually.” Morita said, watching Steve with an analytical gaze. “I don’t think any of us know. You haven’t really been,” He stopped for a second to consider his words. “You haven’t been particularly talkative about it, and done of us know if we should broach the subject or not."

Steve shrugged again. “I guess I just didn’t think it was anyone’s business.”

“Really?” Jim actually scoffed at him, then grabbed his phone, scrolling through it for a second before turning it around and showing it to Steve. He flipped through various articles, all of them about Steve and Bucky’s relationship. “Because it seems like it might be the entire world’s business.”

Steve scowled, looking away. “I don’t know, man. I just, none of them actually  _ know _ . No one knows what he’s really like. No one knows that he’s actually kind of dorky, or that he doesn’t even really like to drink, or that he like playing old jazz standards when he’s sad.”

Jim blinked at him, at the outpouring of information and emotion, then turned back in his seat. “Okay.” 

“O-okay?” Steve replied, confused. “Are we done?”

“I believe you,” Jim said simply. “You’re in love with him.”

Steve just cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked out the window. Another 45 minutes before they landed. 

 

-

 

Bucky waited anxiously at the gate. There were already paps there, so he was hiding behind a pillar awkwardly, waiting for the plane to land. He didn’t know who had tipped them off, or how they had gotten access to the private airstrip, but he had a vague idea. Alexander had some had photographers in his pocket.

Everyone wanted the reunion. 

There was some excited chatter and Bucky peeked out of his hiding place, seeing that the plane had landed and roadies were getting out. He sighed and braced himself. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself when Steve came out of the gate, rocking a tour beard, wearing his glasses and his ugly travel beanie, looking incredibly adorable. Bucky pounced, running at Steve with all the excitement and joy he was feeling.

Luckily, Steve had pretty good reflexes. He dropped his bags and caught Bucky when he launched himself at him, laughing as Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist in a crushing, clinging hug. 

“I missed you.” Bucky said softly, words only for Steve as the photographer’s lights flashed, capturing yet another of Bucky’s most intimate moments. 

Steve squeezed him around the middle, pulling back so he could rub their faces together. “Missed you too, Buck.” Bucky saw the bags under his eyes, the weariness in his features and Bucky realized that it was only 8 in the morning, and that Steve had been on a plane for nearly five hours.

The camera shutters and shouting was overwhelmingly loud, and Bucky winced. “We’re gonna be trending before we leave the airport.”

Steve strong shoulders managed to shrug, even when holding up Bucky’s weight. “Not the the first time, not the last.” 

Bucky kissed him, and the camera flashes grew brighter and the shouting grew louder. He sighed inwardly, and Steve chuckled against his lips. They broke apart and Bucky unwrapped his legs from Steve’s torso. Steve helped him down, expertly not looking at the paparazzi. It was strange that Natasha wasn’t there, she was usually one of the first on the scene. Maybe her reconnection with Clint magically gave her a conscience. 

“Boys? We’ve got cars waiting.” Ms. Carter said, raising her eyebrow at their display. 

Steve smiled embarrassedly at her, picking up his duffle bag and wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. Bucky grabbed Steve’s suitcase, following the Howling Winter team out of the airport. 

“It’s good to see you,” Steve said, once they were safely out of earshot from the reporters.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “You too.” Steve did that nuzzling thing that he often did in the mornings after, slightly animalistic and slightly possessive and altogether sweet. 

They stop outside, where two cars are waiting for them. Bucky helped load the suitcases into one of the trunks, then dithered awkwardly outside of the car until Steve rolled his eyes and made him climb inside.

They rode to in companionable silence, Steve leaning against Bucky, almost aggressively cuddling him as the other people in the car- Tim and Monty, staunchly ignored them. Bucky blinked in surprise when they pulled up to his apartment building. 

“What- I thought we were…” He frowned as Steve opened the door, politely helping Bucky out of the car. 

“I wanted to go to your place, first.” Steve said, then turned to his bandmates. “Bye guys!” Monty didn’t look up from his phone and Tim actually rolled his eyes. Steve grinned at them and shut the door, then grabbed his bags. He looked at Bucky as the car sped off. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” 

As soon as Bucky had the door open, Steve was on him, dropping his bags and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. “Mmm, missed you so much.” Steve muttered, pressing kisses to the side of Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky groaned, leaning back to give Steve better access. He was already rucking up Bucky’s shirt, running gentle fingers along the sensitive skin of his stomach. Bucky just clutched at him, backing him into the wall so it was easier to grope him. 

He pulled off that stupid, ratty beanie and tossed it across the room. Steve’s protest was cut off by Bucky’s mouth on his. “Mmph,” 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, unbuckling Steve’s pants. Steve stopped him, cupping his face and pulling back. 

Bucky whined, but when Steve licked his lips and whispered, “Bed.” he nodded and took Steve’s hand, leading him to his room. “God, you’re so perfect,” Steve muttered, helping Bucky take off his shirt. 

“You too,” Bucky said, an agreement that Steve was perfect, and a demand that he take off his shirt as well. They flung their clothes off as a team, unable to keep their hands off of each other for long enough to get undressed like civilized people.

Before he’d met Steve, Bucky thought there was nothing romantic about sex. He’d just thought it was something physical, pleasurable, but not emotional. 

But being with Steve, being with Steve  _ like this?  _ It was probably the most romantic thing there was. More romantic than any shitty candle-lit dinners or chocolates or bears. Because Steve felt so strongly, kissing Bucky’s throat and chest and stomach like it would kill him not to, fingers burning like embers on Bucky’s skin. He touched Bucky with want in every line of his body, with need in the growl of his voice. 

“Here,” Steve panted, sitting on the bed and gathering Bucky in his lap, holding him like he was something precious, something loved. He held Bucky’s face in his hands and kissed him, then bumped their noses together. “It's been too long.” 

Bucky chuckled, lips brushing against Steve’s as he rocked against him. He bit his lips in satisfaction as Steve groaned, throwing his head back. Bucky took advantage of the moment and sucked a kiss on the soft skin of Steve’s throat. He felt satisfied, know that a mark was going to form on Steve’s gentle, irish skin. He smiled, knowing that he was  _ allowed  _ to make marks, that everyone would know it was his. “We’ve gone longer without.”

“Yeah, but-” Steve broke off to bite a mark on Bucky’s chest in retaliation. “We’ve finally been allowed to be together and then I’m supposed to go a whole  _ fucking  _ month without you?” He brushed Bucky’s hair out of his face, the motion gentle and soft despite Steve’s desperate vehemence. 

Bucky’s face grew hot with the attention, and he ducked his head, burrowing himself in the crook of Steve’s neck. He fisted his hand in Steve’s hair with one hand and grabbed their cocks with the other.  Steve’s body jolted like he’d been electrocuted and his grip on Bucky tightened to the point of brushing. “Shit, Buck that feels-“ 

Bucky bit down on his shoulder, effectively shutting him up as he stroked their cocks together, unable to help himself from rocking against Steve. “Wanna ride you,” He panted, licking across Steve’s jugular. 

_ “Fuck, _ yes.” Steve tried to reach back to Bucky’s nightstand where he knew he kept the lube, but it was too far, and he lost his balance, sending them both sprawling on the bed. Bucky’s forehead collided with Steve’s chin, and they both hissed in pain. 

“Ow,” Bucky muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head. 

Steve winced, propping himself against the headboard. He stretched his jaw experimentally. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky said with a laugh. “I’ve got a thick skull.”

They stared at each other from across Bucky’s california king, and then started cracking up. Bucky snorted, actually snorted, which sent him into furry fits of laughter. 

Steve just grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. “C’mere.”

 

-

 

His phone was ringing. Loud and shrill, piercing straight through the contented veil of sleep. 

Bucky opened his eyes, groaning in annoyance. He was  _ sleeping.  _ Didn’t anyone have any respect for that? It had to be early, or-

He looked at the clock. It was, in fact, nearly 2 pm. “Fuck a duck,” he muttered. Of course. He met Steve at the airport in the morning, and then they had, well. 

Bucky looked down at the heavy arm wrapped possessively around his waist, smiling to himself. He was thinking about turning around and waking Steve up for round three, when the ringing seemed to grow more insistent. Bucky huffed aggravatedly, grabbing his phone. 

“Hello?” He answered, voice soft and gravelly from sleep. 

There was a moment of hesitation from the other end of the line. Then a clear, crisp female voice cut through the line. “Is this James?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, frowning a little in confusion. “Ms. Carter?”

There was a beat, and then the voice answered. “Yes.”

“Give me a sec, will ya?” Bucky said, then set the phone down and slipped out from under Steve’s hold. 

Steve mumbled unhappily in his sleep, but curled up around the empty space Bucky has left. Steve, bless him, could probably sleep through the nuclear apocalypse. 

His body protested as he stood, reminding him of what he had been doing only hours ago. Christ, there was beard burn on his  _ thighs.  _ Bucky smiled smugly at the definite soreness he was going to be harboring for the next week or so, then grabbed the phone, walking out of the bedroom and gently closing the door behind him. “Sorry about that. What can I do for you?”

“Er, is Steve there?” She asked, confusion clear in her voice. Only then did Bucky realize that the phone he was holding was Steve’s, not his. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Bucky said, glancing back at the closed door of his bedroom. “But he’s asleep. Can I, um, can I take a message?” He winced at the awkwardness in his voice.

There was a small sigh on the other line and Bucky braced himself, but she just let out a breathy little laugh. “I suppose this pertains to you as well. I’ve spoken to your manager, and we’ve arranged another date for you and Steve.”

“Okay, when?” Bucky asked, trying to picture his calendar. 

Ms. Carter paused for a moment, as if she was checking her calendar as well. “We’re here until Sunday, and the concert is tomorrow, so Saturday.” 

“Great.” Bucky said, walking into his kitchen. He opened up his fridge, sighing in disappointment when there was nothing there that looked even remotely appetizing. “Where are we going?” 

“There’s a fancy restaurant somewhere that’s opening this weekend. Your manager-” She said  _ your manager _ like and annoyed mother might say  _ your father _ . “has managed to secure a reservation. It's apparently very prestigious.” 

“Great,” Bucky said again, though his voice was much dryer. He thought back to Penelope’s with a shutter. “I’ll let Steve know.”

“Thank you, Ja- Bucky.” Peggy replied, and he could hear the small smile in her voice. “Have a good rest of your day. Have him sent back to us by supper.” 

“You betcha.” The call ends, and Bucky goes to his expensive coffee maker. He started the brew and padded around his kitchen naked, looking around, waiting for something delicious to jump out at him. 

Predictably, it doesn’t, but it's okay because the scent of coffee has drawn Steve out of his room, walking sleepily into the kitchen. He collides with Bucky, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his hair. “Hey, buddy.” Bucky said with a smile, rubbing his hand over Steve’s back. 

Steve just grunted. He was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, his morning wood rubbing against Bucky’s hip. Bucky smiled and gave Steve’s ass a pinch, grinning and grabbing the mugs when Steve yelped and let him go. “Coffee?”   


“Black.” Steve said with a nod, though Bucky already knew. He poured them both a mug, handing one to Steve and pouring honey into the other. Steve moaned indecently with pleasure as he sipped his coffee, and Bucky scowled, knowing it was in retaliation over the pinching.  

Bucky’s stomach growled, and Steve looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Bucky sighed. “You want chinese?”

“Indian.” Steve replied, and Bucky nodded in agreement, tossing Steve his phone so he could pick a place. 

It was nice. They didn’t get dressed, though Bucky threw on a robe to pick up the delivery from downstairs. The two of them sat naked on the floor of the living room, eating and watching old X-Files episodes. They fucked lazily with full bellies after the food was gone, and again after they managed to drag themselves to the shower. 

It might have actually been a perfect day. Bucky wasn’t even sure perfect days  _ existed,  _ but damn if this day wasn’t the best Bucky’s felt in maybe his whole life. 

“I better go,” Steve said for the fourth time, not moving from his spot on Bucky’s bed. He carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, curling the ends. 

Bucky, who’s resting his head on Steve’s stomach, nods in agreement. “Yeah, you should.” 

They’re both reading, Steve has his book from the airplane- some murder mystery, and Bucky’s reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses, feeling sorry for all the mortals who were loved by gods. With Hyacinth turned into a flower and Cyparissus and Daphne turned into trees, Bucky was wondering if there was any plant that Apollo hadn’t fucked when Steve sighed. 

“What?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingertips over Steve’s skin. 

Steve just shut the book, tossing it onto the bed next to him “Too predictable.” 

“Mm,” Bucky agreed, and Steve dragged his hand down Bucky’s back soothingly. Bucky turned his face into Steve’s stomach, the small hairs tickling the tip of his nose. “What time do you need to be back?” 

Steve checked his phone for the time and sighed once again. “About an hour ago.” 

Bucky laughed, pressing a kiss to Steve’s belly button. “Then you should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, still not making a move to sit. Bucky chuckled at his inaction and Steve tugged at his hair in retaliation. “Ah, I’m sure they’ll understand if I’m a little late.”

They didn’t get out of bed until the next morning.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of food talk in this chapter? So, read on a full stomach.

The concert is of course, a success. The Howling Commandos have a huge fan base, and they’re amazing performers. Bucky had seen them perform live once at an awards show, before he and Steve had started sleeping together. Their energy and talent had blown him away even back then. 

Bucky didn’t go to the MSG concert, because in all honesty, he kind of hates going to concerts. Too loud, too many people. Still, he knows that they’re going to be amazing.

Instead, he spent the day anxiously cleaning his apartment, because he had already recorded everything for his new album and Pierce has remained ominously silent, leaving Bucky with nothing to do. 

Steve showed up after the concert, sweaty and high on adrenaline. They had awesome, post-game sex, one of Bucky’s favorite kinds of sex with Steve. It always left them panting into each other’s mouths, tearing their clothes off and sucking bruises into each other’s skin. It was needy and desperate and over quick. 

“Fuck, that ruled,” Bucky sighed, and Steve nodded in agreement, wrapped around Bucky like a koala. Bucky raised his hand, and Steve high-fived him silently, laughing quietly against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Our date’s tomorrow, right?” Steve asked. 

Bucky nodded, his hair stuck to his face. “Yeah. We’re going to the opening of some high-end restaurant. Some celebrity chef with a TV show, I think.” 

“Oh good. More elbow-rubbing.” Steve said dryly. “I hope this place is better than the last one.”

“Mm.” Bucky agreed, post-coital sleepiness waring on him. Steve smiled against his skin, tracing concentric circles on Bucky’s chest that lull him further into sleep. “Night, Stevie.”

“Night, Buck.” Steve replied quietly. 

Steve is perfect, Bucky thinks. So damned perfect. 

The last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep was that it would really make it that much harder when he lost him.

 

-

 

Bucky got ready for the date as Clint talked his ear off about Natasha. He wasn’t really paying close attention, because he’d heard this all before back when Clint and Nat were teenagers. He was glad that they were talking to each other again, and glad that the two of them were no longer lonely. 

“And she walked out an I was like-” Clint made the motion of his brain exploding and Bucky tried to pick out eyeshadow. He was wearing a dark green satin number, so he went with a matching color mixed with black for a smokey look. 

There was a knock at the door, and Bucky sent Clint to go answer it. He put his brush down, smiling smugly at his reflection, thinking that he looked really damn good. He stood to greet Steve, who picked him up in a hug. He was wearing a form sitting gray suit, with a tie the same dark green as Bucky’s blouse. 

“You look so good.” Steve said, and Bucky ducked his head, spinning slowly so Steve could see his outfit. 

“I always look good,” He replied, despite his blush, and kissed Steve on the corner of his mouth. 

“Aw,” Clint sighed, pretending to hold back tears. “They grow up so fast.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at him, but grinned. “Mom, you’re embarrassing me.” Clint whipped out his phone, and Steve immediately grabbed Bucky around the waist in a classic “awkward prom night” pose. 

Steve had Clint send the pictures to him, and they left the apartment hand-in-hand, getting into the car. The restaurant was in Midtown, so the ride wasn’t too long. As they pulled up to the valet, Bucky sighed quietly. 

“What?” Steve asked with a laugh, squeezing Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I just- I wish we could just stay in, like the past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, as the door was opened by a boy in a vest who barely looked old enough to drive. Bucky handed him the keys anyway. He was too rich to try to find a parking lot in New York City. Steve walked around the car, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. “I don’t want to share you with the world, either.” 

Bucky had to bite back his smile, so he just slipped his hand into Steve’s back pocket, leaning against his side. Once they were inside, the hostess lead them to a table. It was basically in the center of the dining room, prominent and visible to the other diners. There were a couple other celebrities there as well. Bucky recognized a couple of Broadway stars, a handful of semi-famous food critics, the local news anchor, and the mayor. Bucky pointed them out to Steve with a discreet nod, and Steve looked as if he was holding back a laugh. 

The very professional waiter came by, filling their glasses and informing them of the chef’s selections for them. Bucky sighed inwardly. It was one of  _ those  _ fancy restaurants, the ones where you don’t get to choose what you get to eat or drink, just had to take whatever food and wine they gave you. 

The first course, as the waiter explained, was panzanella invernale with roasted squash and puntarelle. Bucky didn’t understand what that meant at all, but it seemed to be some kind of bread salad that was actually really great. The wine pairing was good too, though Bucky sipped it sparingly, knowing that it would go right to his head. 

He and Steve talked about little things, about how the tour was going and how the producers were ruining Bucky’s tracks for his upcoming album, Solstice. The second course was orecchiette with  rabbit sausage, turnips, and castelvetrano olive passato. When the waiter explained that they were eating rabbit, Bucky and Steve shared a wary look, and they both pushed the meat around on the plate, eating just the pasta. Neither of them wanted to eat a bunny rabbit. They weren’t as guilty eating the next course, which was a delicious beef ribeye with potatoes and a red wine vinaigrette. 

They kept the wine coming liberally. There were four or five different waiters, and each seemed to have a different purposes. It seemed that one of them was there simply to supply them with wine. It was making Bucky feel a little lighter, a little looser. It simply made Steve red-faced and giggly, which made Bucky want to egg him on. 

He caught sight of a familiar face, across the dining room and grinned. “Oh, look! It's T’Challa again. Hi, T’Challa!” Bucky waved at where the man seemed to be eating with a beautiful woman, and Steve laughed, shushing him and pulling his arm down. The man looked up, glancing at their table, then quickly looking away. This only sent Steve into further gales of muffled laughter. 

“Oh, geez, I need to pee,” Bucky realized, standing. He sat back down quickly, as his balance was completely off-kilter. One never knows how drunk they are until they stand up. Steve just laughed more at his clear struggle, and Bucky scowled at him. 

He stood again, slowly this time. He held onto the table, unsteady on the small heels he was wearing. “For god’s sake, Buck.” Steve laughed, standing up and holding onto Bucky’s arm so he didn’t fall. “I’ll come with you.” 

They walked to the bathroom together, and Bucky could feel the eyes on his back, could practically hear their thoughts.  _ Of course he’s gotten drunk/Sneaking off to shag in the bathroom/Poor Rogers, don’t you know you can’t date people to change them? _

Bucky told himself he didn’t care, that he was bulletproof with Steve at his side. Still, the sneaking shame was eating away at his smile. 

They made it to the men’s room. He shoved Steve off of him so he could take a piss, then washed his hands and awkwardly accepted the hand towel that the bathroom attendant offered. There was also a basket of those classy chocolate mint things, which Bucky grabbed a handful of. 

Instead of leading him back to the table, Steve dragged Bucky to the side, kissing him. Bucky laughed against his lips, letting Steve push him against the wall. Steve pulled back and smiled at him dopily. Bucky shook his head, chuckling. “What was that for?” He asked, and Steve rubbed his thumb over Bucky’s cheek and shrugged. 

“Just wanted to.” He answered, then kissed him again. 

Bucky deepened the kiss, grabbing Steve’s jacket and pulling him closer. He  _ needed  _ Steve in this moment, needed to know he was there, needed to feel him, needed to have him for as long as he could, before Pierce takes him away the way he does with everything good in Bucky’s life. 

He hadn’t realized he had said any of that out loud until Steve told him, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You are, though.” Bucky said, not argumentative or defensive, just soft and sad and definitive. 

Steve frowned. “Why do you think that?” 

“You just are. The contract will end, you’ll go on with your life and meet someone better and get married and have lots of little blonde babies and maybe a dog.” Bucky said, speaking into existence the image that has been plaguing him since the first time Steve kissed him. 

Steve just laughed, warm breath washing over Bucky’s face. “You’re the best person I know, Buck. There’s no one else for me. Once the contract ends, we can keep dating, but, y’know, for real. It's not like our managers can stop us. Peggy actually kinda likes you.”

Bucky pulled back, already shaking his head. “You don’t want that.”

“Of course I do.” Steve said, an earnest smile on his face. “Bucky, I love you.” 

_ You don’t mean that, you’re lying, you don’t even know me, you love the idea of me, shut up, shut up, shut up, I love you, I need you, god, I want you to be telling the truth but you can’t be, you can’t love me, I’m sorry, I love you I love you I love you. _

“Bucky?” Steve was staring at him, smile falling. Bucky looked to his left and in a strange panic move, he jammed his elbow into the fire alarm. 

The alarm started ringing loudly, and there was the sound of distress and agitation from the dining room as people started leaving their tables. People started shouting as the sprinkler system turned on, and Bucky and Steve just stared at each other as they grew progressively more soaked.

“Gentlemen? You need to evacuate.” Their waiter had somehow found them, and was grabbing Bucky by the elbow, pushing them toward the door. 

“Of course,” Steve said quietly, finally looking away from Bucky, the hurt and pain and confusion evident on his face. 

They left the restaurant, not looking at each other once. As the cool night air hit Bucky’s wet clothes, he shivered, feeling deeply and horribly sober. 

 

-

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Bucky answered the phone with what was nearly a snarl. He had been moping since the date he ruined with Steve, and Brock Rumlow was the very last person on Earth he wanted to speak to. 

There was a sharp  _ tsk _ from the other end of the call, a habit picked up from Pierce. It was a poor intimidation tactic, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “No need to snap at me, sweetheart. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Fuck off, Rumlow.” Bucky said, already wanting to punch something. Rumlow had that smug tone of voice that never meant anything good for Bucky. “What do you want?”

“Boss wants to see you.” Rumlow said simply. 

Bucky clenched his jaw. “And why couldn’t he call himself?”

“He wanted me to escort you. I guess he’s worried you’ll do a runner or something. I’m downstairs.” Rumlow was actually gentling his tone, which Bucky certainly hoped wasn’t for his sake. 

Bucky hung up the phone, knowing Rumlow would wait downstairs. “Fuck,” He muttered, scrubbing his face. He knew he looked a mess, and he’d been acting pricklier than a cactus. He’d driven off Clint and Wanda with his shitty attitude, and he had just been wrapped up in bed, alternating between hating himself and hating the world. 

He took an exceptionally quick shower and got dressed in actual clothes, then grabbed his shit and walked downstairs. Rumlow, predictably, is waiting for him with a dour expression on his face. Bucky didn’t say anything, just walked past him out of the building. He put in his earbuds so Brock wouldn’t try to talk to him, and continued walking briskly towards the offices. 

Rumlow actually has to jog to catch up with him, giving him a sideways glance. Even he seemed to wonder what the hell was going on with Bucky. They made it to Pierce’s office building in record time, and Rumlow opened the door for him with a sweeping bow that makes Bucky want to punch him in the head. 

He needed to get his temper under control before he walked into Pierce’s office and throttled the man just for existing. He and Rumlow got on the elevator, and Bucky tried to take deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Ah, James. It’s good to see you.” Pierce said as soon as Bucky walked in the door. Bucky simply nodded in greeting, slumping down in his usual chair across from Pierce. Alexander just looked up at Rumlow. “Brock, could you give us the room, please?” 

Rumlow nodded and shut the door behind him. There was dread building at the pit of his stomach, but that was to be expected when one’s stepping into a viper’s nest. Bucky just stared at the knot of Pierce’s tie, waiting for him to speak. 

“I spoke with Ms. Carter.” Alexander finally said, and Bucky frowned, unsure of where he was going. “Honestly, James, I’ve found your relationship with Mr. Steve Rogers rather unsettling.”

Bucky looked up at that, meeting Pierce’s eyes for the briefest of moments. “What do you-”

A snake’s smile crossed Pierce’s face. “I thought the public would grow tired of you and Rogers quickly, would actively root against you. After all, he’s loved, and you’re you.” 

Bucky looked at the grain of the desk, stung, even though he knew it was true. “But?”   


“But, this little charade has been… enlightening.” He said the word like it tasted rotten in his mouth. “I don’t often admit to being wrong, but I should have cut this whole thing off at the pass instead of encouraging you.”

“I-I’m not sure I follow.” Bucky said, swallowing. He shifted so he was sitting on his hands, so that Pierce didn’t see them shake.

“You’ve never been a good actor, James.” Pierce said blandly. “The whole world can see you’re in love with him. It's pathetic, honestly. Like watching a kicked dog beg apologies from its master. And, unfortunately, the uneducated masses seem to enjoy a good romance. If I allow this to continue, you’ll end up getting married or something equally as bad for your career."

Bucky cleared his throat, trying not betray the panic rising in his throat. “As I said, I spoke to Ms. Carter. She agreed to void the contract and set her charge free of you. You’re not to see Rogers again. Don’t speak to him, don’t attempt to contact him, don’t even think about him. There will be radio silence from both of your socials, and after a few weeks, we will issue a statement saying that you’ve broken up.”

“You- you can’t do this.” Bucky said, voice shaky. 

Pierce just smiled at him. “I think you’ll find I can.” 

“But, but Steve-”

“Has already agreed.” Pierce said. “It seems he wants nothing to do with you.”

All the fight went out of Bucky like his strings had been cut. He let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Of course Steve didn’t want to see him again. Bucky had been cruel, unintentionally so, but he had been, and he hadn’t tried to call him or explain. Steve deserved better then someone like him.

“Okay.” Bucky said weakly. “Okay, Alex.” 

“Just to make sure you don’t attempt to contact him, I’ll be having you phone.” Pierce said, almost gently. Bucky handed it over wordlessly. “And the backup.” He said, and Bucky gave that to him as well. 

“I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m going to have to leave Brock to monitor you for the next few weeks,” Pierce said, voice soft and kind sounding, like a parent explaining something to a child. Bucky just nodded. “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior. If he harasses you, I’ll have him replaced.” Alexander continued. 

“Is that all?” Bucky asked, wanting his permission to leave. 

Pierce nodded, then stopped his with a finger as he started to stand. “Be here on Tuesday. We have a meeting with a rep who wants you to be the new face of their brand.”

Bucky nodded again, and when Pierce waved a permissive hand, he got out of the chair and left the room.


	15. Chapter 15

 

He was shooting an ad for Pepsi. They were apparently releasing a new line of flavor or low calorie line or some new fucking can size, and they wanted a recognizable face to go along with it.

Everything had gone back to normal. Right now, Bucky was straddling the hood of a sexy red car, wearing black leather booty shorts and a harness, whipping his wet hair back and forth to the beat of silent music. There was makeup practically dripping down his face, and the director was yelling things at him.

He wasn’t exactly sure what this had to do with soda, but apparently he was getting a rather nice stipend. Bucky guessed it was some sort of strategic move on Pierce’s part, doubling down on Bucky’s slutty image. Bucky didn’t much care. He practically sleepwalked from day to day, going where Pierce told him to.

About two weeks after he’d gone to Pierce’s office, it was clear Rumlow’s presence wasn’t necessary. Bucky wasn’t breaking any of Pierce’s rules, and all Rumlow did was upset him further, though to be fair, Rumlow had been practically civil, even if civil for Brock was aggressive and cruel for anybody else. Clint and Rumlow had nearly come to blows several times, and Wanda had actually kicked him after he’d said something particularly rude.

Bucky knew his friends were worried about him, and he knew that he was a mess, but he couldn’t bring himself to put on a happy face for them.

“That’s a wrap!” The director called, and Bucky sighed, climbing off the the car. One of the backup dancers slapped his ass, and Bucky just shot him a scathing look. He made it to the dressing room unaccosted, wiping the dark makeup off his face and putting on clothes that made him feel like a person rather than a piece of meat.

He walked to his car, avoiding talking to anybody so he could get back to his home and his bed as soon as possible. When he made it to the parking lot and saw the figure leaning against his car, he sighed. “What do you want, Nat?”

“Sorry to hear about you and Steve.” She said quietly, and there was actual remorse in her voice. “Clint said you’ve been taking it pretty hard.”

“You and I both know that it was bound to end.” Bucky replied, unlocking his car. “I’m not gonna give you a quote.”

She looked at him then, more worried big sister than nosy reporter. “I know.” She said, squeezing his arm gently. Bucky hadn’t realized how starved for touch he had been before Steve had come into his life, and now every time Clint patted him on the back or Wanda brushed his arm, he felt worse than he had before. But now, with someone there, someone he had loved once, offering him comfort; Bucky wanted to melt, wanted her to hold him.

But Bucky didn’t collapse in her arms, and she didn’t push him to. “Don’t be a stranger, Jamie.” She said, moving out of his way.

“Thanks.” He got into his car and drove away, not glancing in his rearview. He didn’t need to see her disappointment and worry. He was already getting it from everyone else.

Bucky slept in the next day, only to be woken by shouting. He groaned and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. When the arguing only grew louder, he tossed the pillow across the room, getting out of bed with an annoyed huff. Whatever the twins were fighting about had better be something good.

“Anyone mind telling me what the fuck is go-“ The words got caught in his throat at the sight in his main room. Natasha and Clint were there, along with Rumlow and Matt and the twins. This didn’t really feel like something he was equipped to handle right now. He was barely equipped to be awake at all.

Silence fell upon his arrival, and his mouth caught up with his brain. “Is there a fucking sign on my fucking door that says, ‘come the fuck on in, me casa es su casa’?’ Because I don’t remember ever putting one up. Do any of you even have keys?”

Only Matt had the decency to look sheepish. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see some of you,” Bucky continued, though in honesty he wasn’t happy to see any of them, not now. He was miserable and he wanted to be left alone. “Why is my apartment the base of your operations for your little showdown? A ring might have been acceptable, or perhaps a back alley somewhere.”

“Yeah, I bet you know all about back alleys.” Rumlow said with a sneer.

He was pissed about something; and Bucky didn’t much care what. “Brock, you are especially not welcome here. I know Pierce called you off. Leave, now. Before I call security.”

“I already tried that.” Matt muttered darkly. He had his fists balled at his side. “Apparently, management doesn’t care. Something about the owner.”

Bucky frowned. The logical leap wasn’t hard to make. Of course Pierce owned his goddamn apartment complex. All the better to spy with. “Fuck.” He said with feeling, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“We saw there was a reporter sneaking into your building.” Rumlow said, gesturing gruffly to Natasha.

Bucky rubbed his temples. “I haven’t told her anything. I’m not breaking Pierce’s vow of silence.”

“I’m his friend.” Natasha said, crossing her arms. “He still has the right to have friends, doesn’t he?”

“Last I understood, it's a free country,” Pietro agreed, glaring at Rumlow.

“I heard the fighting,” Matt explained, facing Bucky’s general direction. “I thought there was trouble. I didn’t mean to come in uninvited.”

Bucky rubbed his face. “It's okay, Matt. You’re the only person I’m not mad at here.”

Wanda and Pietro immediately protested, but Bucky put out his hand to silence them. “Kids, go to your room.” They sulked at him, but went to the TV room without making a fuss. Bucky turned to look at Clint and Natasha.

“What’s going on?” He asked them, hoping to get whatever this clusterfuck was over with.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Natasha looked seriously at Bucky. _“I spoke with Sam.”_ Bucky blinked in surprise when he realized she was speaking Russian. He saw that both Rumlow and Matt looked taken aback at the change in language and he knew that she didn’t want to be overheard.

“Okay?” Bucky said in English, frowning at her. He wasn’t sure where this was going.

She looked sternly at him, and Clint went to the kitchen, nervously starting to make coffee. _“He said that Pierce was poisoning you. That he’s running you ragged. That it's not sustainable.”_

 _“Sam sure talks a lot.”_ Bucky said, then switched back to English. “I’m fine Natasha. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Natasha asked, looking unimpressed. She nodded to Rumlow. “ _He has this brute following you around. Ever since he pulled you out of school and into the spotlight, you’ve been miserable.”_

 _“I owe him my life, Natasha.”_ Bucky snapped. _“I don’t have to like him, but he’s the reason I’m here, the reason I got out of they system.”_

Natasha shook her head sharply. _“You don’t owe him anything. He’s killing you.”_

 _“You just don’t understand,”_ Bucky replied, rubbing his face. He took the mug of coffee Clint offered him, and only then realized that he was in pajamas. Bucky sighed and thanked Clint. “Besides, Nat. Even if you’re right, it's not like I can do anything about it.”

“Not by yourself.” Clint added, handing another mug to Natasha.

Rumlow gave a gusty sigh, rolling his eyes. “This whole thing is really touching and all, but I can’t her let stay. Boss’s rules. No reporters.”

“I’m not leaving.” Natasha said primly, taking a sip of her coffee. “And I’d like to see you try and make me.”

Bucky was about to cut in when Matt cleared his throat. “As entertaining as that would be, if this… boss really does own the building, he’d be well within his rights to press trespassing charges.”

“Who are you again?” Asked Clint, genuinely curious.

“This is Matt. He’s a friend of mine. And a lawyer.” Bucky introduced, shooting a meaningful look at Natasha

Rumlow smirked. “Didn’t know you were into the broken baby bird type, sweetheart.”

“Seriously, Brock, fuck off.” Bucky said, disgust coloring his voice. “Listen, Natasha will leave, and you can even walk her out. But I’m gonna need your key.”

Rumlow started to protest, but Bucky cut him off. “Now, or I’m changing the locks and Pierce and his cronies won’t be able to get in at all. Matt, does that sound about right?”

Matt stepped forward with a small smile. “I believe that’s perfectly legal, yes.”

“Fuckin… fine.” Rumlow slapped a key into Bucky’s waiting palm. Bucky nodded to Natasha, who put down her coffee down and walked out of the apartment without a word. Rumlow cursed and scrambled after her.

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I better text her."

“Can I go back to bed now?” Bucky asked, suddenly exhausted. “Matt, will you be alright getting back to your place?” He didn’t have his cane with him. Bucky wondered if he had really heard the commotion or he had just followed Brock upstairs.

Matt pushed up his glasses. “Yeah. And…” He trailed off, like he was contemplating his words. “Just, call if you need anything.”

“You got it. Let me walk you out.” Bucky showed him to the door and made sure he got on the elevator okay before heading back inside.

  
Clint was still typing on his phone. “Why don’t you go out to lunch with us?”   


“I know what you’re gonna say,” Bucky sighed, taking Natasha’s mug of coffee to the sink. “The two of you will corner me, say you’re gonna help me get out of Pierce’s clutches. You’ll convince me of all the horrible things he’s done to me, I’ll feel sorry for myself, and we’ll try to find a way for me to escape. But there isn’t one, Clint. I’m stuck with him until he’s done with me, okay? If we try anything, my life will just get harder. So don’t.”

“Kiddo,” Clint said, and the word was full of sorrow. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you come to us? We could’ve helped you. We _would have_ helped you.”

Bucky smiled ruefully. “There’s nothing either of you could have done, believe me.”

“If we had known it was getting this bad?” Clint shook his head furiously. “You’re our family, Bucky. We would move heaven and earth to make sure you’re safe, because we love you.”

“Us too,” Pietro said, sticking his head out of the TV room door.

Wanda appeared as well. “Are we allowed back into the conversation? Because we have some things we’d like to say.”

Bucky said nothing, but waved them over. They scurried out, and Pietro descended on the pot of coffee, pouring himself a mug. Wanda sat on the counter. The two of them speak russian, and Bucky was sure they had heard everything he and Natasha had said. “Bucky,” Wanda said, voice soft and careful, like it almost never is. “You were happy, when Steve was here. Actually, really, truly happy. In all the time I’ve never seen you that way before, and I liked it.”

Pietro nodded as Wanda grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him closer. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against Bucky’s. “You deserve to be happy.” She whispered fiercely.

Bucky let himself tuck his face into her shoulder, let himself give a shuddering breath.

He let himself wonder what it would be like, to be free of Pierce. He could eat whatever he wanted, could go to places he actually wanted to go to. He could write and play and perform songs that he actually liked. He could play guitar and piano for people, jazz and folk and blues, and anything  _anything_ other than club music. He could make choices without second guessing himself, he could let down the paranoia.

Most of all, he could be with Steve, actually be with Steve.

Wanda ran a hand over his hair gently, and Bucky nodded. “Okay,” He said, though the word got caught in his throat and was nearly inaudible. “Okay.” He repeated.

He pulled back from Wanda and looked at Clint. “Call Natasha. Ask her what she’s got.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapter count keeps going up, but this story keeps demanding more of me. 
> 
> Warnings for implied abuse and other general Pierce jackassary

What Natasha had, apparently, was a lot. She had gotten Bucky’s medical files from both Zola and Sam. She had contract after contract. She practically had ever bit of paperwork pertaining to Bucky that Pierce had ever signed, written, or even looked at. 

“How the hell did you get this?” Bucky breathed, looking through the papers. They were at nearby cafe, since Natasha wasn’t allowed in his apartment building.

“After I saw you yesterday, and you looked miserable, I thought that there had to be someway I could help.” Natasha saw Bucky’s look and shrugged one shoulder. “I had to do something. So I called in a favor with a contact of mine inside of HYDRA. She photocopied your file and sent it over to me. I guess we’re lucky that Pierce borders on obsessive-compulsive, because this is provides a compelling story.”

Bucky looked at her, flatly asking, “Story? You’re gonna run this?” He laughed bitterly. “I should have guessed.”

“This isn’t for my sake.” Natasha snapped. “I’m not doing this to get headlines. All I’m saying is that I know how to use this to gain the public’s sympathy. I can get them on your side, James.” 

“They’ve never been on my side.” Bucky muttered. Ever since he started in the music game, it seemed that most people actively seemed to root against him. He was a punchline. People thought mhe was talentless, thought he was slutty and an addict and just a pretty face, if that. Bucky figured it was because of some sort of deep-seeded homophobia. No one wanted to see him succeed. 

He was more entertaining to them when he was miserable. “Okay, fine.” He muttered, wiping condensation off his water glass. “What do we do?”   


“I saw we go public,” Clint said confidently. “We tell the world how he treats you, show them what a monster he is. We have everything we need right here.” He patted Natasha’s stack of papers.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. We need more time and more evidence. People will make what they want of these papers, HYDRA’s lawyers with swoop in and say they’re being misinterpreted, and it’ll all blow over in a few days.” 

“Not to mention, I’d still be stuck with Pierce.” Bucky added. The stack of papers was daunting, like a wall that Pierce had built around Bucky, buring him so deep that not even Natasha Romanoff and trash journalism could dig him out. 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y’know what, let’s forget it. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Bucky,” Clint reached across the table, grabbing his arm. “C’mon. You’re tough. You’ve faced down worse than a snake in a suit. I know you can do this.” 

Bucky swallowed convulsively. When he spoke, it came out in a cracked whisper. “What if I can’t?”

“That’s why you have me and Clint.” Natasha said firmly. 

Bucky jolted in surprise as another voice added, “And us.” He turned to see Matt holding the arm of another man, with long blond hair. 

“Hi,” The man added, holding out a hand for Bucky to shake. “I’m Foggy Nelson. Matt’s partner. Er, law partner. It's nice to meet you.” 

“Thanks for calling us, Ms. Romanoff.” Matt added, feeling around for a chair. Foggy pulled one out for him, helping him sit. Then, he grabbed a chair from another table and sat next to him. 

Bucky looked incredulously between the newcomers and Natasha. Clint also looked surprised. “You called my neighbor?”   


“Figured we might need a lawyer.” She said with a shrug. “It helps that you made friends with a particularly cute one.” 

Foggy flipped some hair over his shoulder. “Stop, I’ll blush.” Bucky was still looking at her suspiciously. 

“Do you have my place staked out?” He asked, and she shrugged unrepentantly, examining her nails.

“Someone ought to be looking out for you.” She said, then pushed the stack of papers over to Matt and Foggy. 

Clint frowned. “How long have you been keeping an eye on him?”   


“Well,” Natasha shrugged. “A while.” She turned to Matt and Foggy. “We need to get out of a pretty tight contract."

“Is there an automatic mediation clause?” Matt asked, and Natasha nodded. 

“Yes,” She told him. “But as soon as Pierce’s people find out that Bucky wants to leave, they’ll sue. There won’t be anytime for civil negotiation.” 

Foggy was flipping through the contract, a consternated look on his face. Matt tilted his head towards him. “Well?”

“It's not great. I mean, the contract’s great. It's almost completely airtight, which isn’t great for us.” Foggy said, looking at Bucky. “Who in god’s name let you sign this? HYDRA Entertainment practically owns you.” 

Bucky shrugged, a deep unease growing in his chest. “I was 16. I didn’t even have parents, it's not like I had an attorney looking over my shoulder.” Pierce had practically shoved the pen in his hand, telling him that Bucky would be a star, be rich and famous and happy. He sure was rich and famous, alright. 

“You were sixteen?” Matt asked suddenly. “A minor can’t sign something legally binding.”

Clint rubbed his forehead, looking worn. “Unless they’re emancipated.” 

“Which I was,” Bucky added. “Pierce made sure of that. Hired my lawyer and everything. Probably bribed the judge.” 

“We’ll need the paperwork for that.” Foggy said, looking at Natasha. 

She just shook her head. “I don’t have it.”

“It should be public record.” Matt told her, and she nodded, already pulling a laptop out of her bag. 

Foggy had set the contract aside and was looking through the rest of the documents. “How did you get all of this?”

“I pulled a few favors,” Natasha said simply, and Matt frowned. 

“None of this was obtained illegally, right?” He asked, running his hand along the table until he found the contract. It was thick, making up nearly half of the papers on the table. 

Natasha shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.” 

“Alright,” Foggy sighed, looking wary. He turned back to the papers. “Well, it's pretty clear you were being mistreated, Mr. Barnes. I doubt HYDRA will want to go public any of this.” He tapped the first document. “And if they want to take this to court, we have a good enough case for a counter-suit.” 

“Mistreatment?” Matt asked, turning to Foggy. 

Bucky looked down, twisting his shirt in his hands. Foggy cleared his throat. “Intimidation, forcing him into unsafe dietary practices, having someone follow him around-”   


“That guy from today?” Matt asked, looking to Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky said hoarsely. He wanted Foggy to stop. “Rumlow.” 

“There’s also some evidence, um,” Foggy glanced up at Bucky, then continued. “That he was manipulated into taking drugs and alcohol when he was underage, and um, made to-”   


Bucky stood abruptly, chair screeching against the floor. Matt winced at the sound, and Clint paled. “Bucky, what-”

“I’m not doing this.” Bucky said quickly, running his hand over his head. “Look, I’ll just deal with Pierce’s bullshit until the contract ends in five years. I’ll be old news by then. Let Pierce find some other kid to torture.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the table. “Lunch is on me.” 

Natasha grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. “Is that what you want?” She asked softly. “For someone else to go through this?” 

“No, of course not, but I can’t-” His breath hitched. “I can’t put myself through this, Nat. I-I’ve held it together for this long, but I w-won’t be able to if-if-” 

She stood from the table, grabbing him by the scuff and pulling him into a rough hug. He grabbed the back of her jacket, burying his face into her shoulder as he sobbed. “It's okay,” She whispered, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you,  _ myshka _ . I’m here.” 

Clint was at his back, squeezing his shoulder. “What do you need from us?”

“Steve.” Bucky said finally. “I need to see Steve.” 

 

-

 

Steve was glumly tuning his bass. He did everything glumly these days, and the rest of the band was giving him a wide berth. 

Ever since Bucky’s manager called and said that Bucky wanted out of the contract, Steve’s been miserable. He shouldn’t have said anything that night, shouldn’t have told Bucky he loved him. 

It was too much, too fast. Steve’s mom had always said that he fell in love harder than most people. It meant that it was always that much harder when someone he loved got hurt, or left him. 

He didn’t call Bucky, afterwards. Pulling the fire alarm had seemed like a pretty definitive rejection. Steve had moped for a couple of days, traveled and played with the boys, let them buy him sympathy beers and try to cheer him up. But when Pierce had called and ended to contract with Peggy? It had felt like a knife to the gut. Bucky didn’t want to see him again. Didn’t even want to hear his voice on the phone. 

Steve tried to think, try to figure out what he had done wrong, but all he could think of was Bucky’s face when Steve had told him he loved him. Bucky's face hadn’t just been sad or repulsed or mad, it had been terrified. When Steve told him he loved him, Bucky had looked hopeful, happy, even; and then shatteringly afraid. He had looked so scared, like the worst thing in the world was happening to him. Why was he so scared?

Abruptly, Steve was brought out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. He grabbed it quickly, hopefully, even though he knew it wasn’t Bucky’s ringtone. He had tried calling Bucky, after, but he never answered. 

It was a number Steve didn’t recognize, so he answered with a cautious, “Hello?”

“Is this Steve Rogers?” A male voice asked. 

Steve looked at his phone suspiciously. “Um, yes. Who is this?”

“Oh, good.” The voice said with some relief. “He had to give me the number of the top of his head. We weren’t totally sure if it was right. This is Clint Barton.” 

“Clint?” Steve asked in confusion. Why was Bucky’s brother calling him? “Uh, what are you…”

There was a deep sigh on the other end, like Clint was tired and upset. “Hey, um, you’re in… hold on a sec.” There was the sound of murmuring on the other line and Clint said, “Detroit, right?”   


“Yeah,” Steve answered, still unsure of why this call was happening. There was more talking on the other end, and the sound of Clint Barton shushing someone. 

“Okay, how long are you there for?” He asked. 

“Uh,” Steve put his bass down. “Well, we had a concert earlier today, and we’re heading to Indiana tomorrow.”

There was some shuffling, like Clint was writing something down. “Right,” He said. “You’re wrapping up the tour in Austin just in time for ACL.” 

“Yeeeeeeeeah,” Steve said, still deeply confused. “Why are you calling me?”

Another deep sigh came through the call, and Steve felt like so far, Clint had been stalling. “Look, man. Bucky needs you. When can you get back to New York?”   


“Oh,” Steve said stupidly, all the breath leaving his body. “I, um-” He shook his head. “But, he um, he didn’t want to…” He trailed off shaking his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, Steve.” Clint said, sounding tired. “Really.”

For some reason, Steve just couldn’t believe him. He wanted to argue. “Why isn’t he calling?”

“There’s a lot of stuff going on, buddy.” Clint said. “It’s a long story, but it's easily summed up, I guess. Pierce is a massive fucking dick with a god complex and too much control over Bucky’s life. He… he can’t call you on his phone because we’re not sure if it's being monitored. Listen, I’m just gonna-”

There the sound of some rustling, and then silence. If Steve strained, he could hear soft breaths on the other end of the line. Soft, familiar, sad-sounding breaths. It was clear that the person on the line wasn’t going to speak first, Steve cleared his throat. “Bucky?” He asked quietly.

A small, choked sound came from the phone’s speaker, and Bucky’s voice, shaky and scared replied, “Hi, Steve.” 

“Hey,” Steve said back, unable to keep the warm smile off his face. It was good to hear Bucky’s voice, even if he sounded like this. “What’s wrong?”   


“I-” Bucky choked, and there was the sound of raw, unhappy laughter. “Steve, I’m, I-” 

Steve shushed him quietly, wishing that Bucky didn’t sound so frantic. “It's okay, Buck.” He said quietly, and in an instant, forgave Bucky for everything. “It's okay.” 

“Fuck,” Bucky said miserably, sounding more like himself. “Steve, I fucked everything up. I’m sorry. I-” He let out a harsh breath. “I love you. More than anything, Steve. I love you so goddamn much, but I can’t-” 

There were more of those rough sobs, and Steve closed his eyes, warmth and confusion and love and anger waring in his chest. He wanted to hold Bucky, to keep him from crying, to find whoever made him sound like this and beat the shit out of them. “Tell me what’s wrong, Bucky.”

“I don’t, um, shit. Look, a lot of stuff is about to go down, and it's gonna be pretty fucking horrible. I, uh, I know you can’t just drop everything and come back to New York, but… but I need to see you."

Steve nodded, then realized that Bucky wasn't actually there. “Yeah, I, uh-” He checked the calendar on his phone, then the airline app. “I can be there by 2 am if I leave now. I have to be in Indianapolis before Friday, but… I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered, barely audible over the phone. Steve wanted to hold that voice to his chest and keep it there, away from the rest of the unkind world. “Thank you, Stevie.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued warning of Pierce assholishness. Also a description of dissociation/panic attack

 

Bucky stayed up, knowing that it would only be worse if he fell asleep. Matt, Foggy, Clint, and Natasha had gone over everything with him, ad nauseam. Matt was going to argue that Bucky’s contract was something called an adhesion contract, that he didn’t have proper knowledge or representation when he signed it. 

Bucky didn’t much care how Matt argued the case. He couldn’t bring himself to care about much of anything. He felt numb, completely numb. After he had been forced to feel all the emotion that he had forced down for so many years, after his breakdown, everything just felt like static in his head. Wanda and Pietro had tried to drag him out for dinner, almost desperate to get him to do something, anything. He had told them to go by themselves, and they had gotten the hint and left him alone. 

Now, he was curled up on his couch, wrapped in his softest, most expensive blanket. He had turned on the television, though he wasn’t really paying attention. Before, his head was a spiral of  _ they’llknowcan’tdothiseveryonewillknowyoucan’tyou’lldiehowcanyouthey’llknow  _ but now, his mind was totally blank, and it was like he was floating outside of himself. 

He didn’t hear it when the door opened, didn’t notice as someone walked through his apartment, didn’t notice as someone called his name. He barely even noticed when Steve crouched in front of him, cupping his face. 

“Hey,” Bucky, said, voice raw, like he had been screaming. Had he been screaming? He didn’t think he had been screaming. 

“Buck,” Steve said quietly, eyes flirting anxiously over his face. Bucky didn’t know what he saw there, but Steve just kissed his forehead, then gathered Bucky in his arms. He carried him to the bed, like it was easy, like Bucky weighed nothing. 

Steve set him down gently, like he was fragile. Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had already shattered a long time ago. Maybe too long ago to ever really get glued back together.

Steve started to pull away, but Bucky grabbed his wrist, shaking his head. He felt so unbelievably selfish, he knew that Steve needed, deserved someone better than him, someone functional, not someone who was already used and broken by the system before they were even old enough to vote. “Need you,” He said anyway, pulling Steve closer. “Please.”

“Okay,” Steve said quietly, climbing in beside him. He wrapped himself around Bucky, so casual with his intimacy, so liberal with his touches, and not at all the way everyone else was. Not like rough and wanting like Rumlow, not exploratory and lustful like Zola, not cruel and uncaring like Pierce. He was safe, in a way that no one else was. 

Bucky turned in his arms so he was facing that broad chest, and he burying he face in the planes of Steve’s skin, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s shirt, like Bucky was afraid that he would disappear. Steve wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him closer, holding him to his mass, like he was afraid that Bucky was already gone. “I’m here,” Bucky whispered, though it made no sense. 

“I know.” Steve replied softly, rubbing his hand over the curve of Bucky’s spine. He bent his neck, in a way that had to be strange and uncomfortable, and kissed Bucky on the crown on his head. “I’m here, too. And I’m not leaving for a long time.”

Bucky wanted to correct him, to tell him that he leaves on Friday morning, or maybe to tell him that everyone leaves, but he couldn’t find the energy. He just curled closer to Steve, closer, needing to be impossibly closer. As weird as it may sound, Bucky wanting their cells to fuse together, wanting Steve to absorb him through osmosis so that he could always be with him, always protected by him. 

Steve chuckled softly, chest rumbling against Bucky’s ear, and Bucky wondered how much of that he had said out loud. Steve just continued stroking his back, gently curling Bucky’s hair around his fingers. “I love you, Buck.” He whispered. “I love you.” 

“I-“ Bucky’s voice was strange to his own ears. “Steve, I love you. You, you’re-“ He can’t finish the sentence, unsure of what he even meant to say.  _ Wrong. Perfect. Beautiful. Unfair. Too good. Mine.  _

“I know,” Steve said anyway. Even if Bucky didn’t know what he was going to say, it seemed that Steve did. Bucky felt himself shudder, and he wanted to cry again, though he wasn’t sure he could. Instead, he fell asleep. He would cry in the morning. 

 

-

 

Bucky woke to soft breath on the back of his neck, and a sleep-warm body against his back. He felt good, better than good. He felt confident, alive. 

Maybe having a complete break down was healthy. When Bucky’s career is completely in the toilet and he ends up having a daytime talk show, he’ll turn to his audience with a too bright smile and say, “Spending an entire day having a panic attack does wonders for your skin!” 

He laughed to himself, shaking his head at his own train of thought. Steve’s arm around his waist tightened, and Bucky smiled, the expression feeling strange on his face. He untangled his fingers from Steve’s, pressing his lips against the skin of his knuckles. Steve muttered something sleepily, but it was incoherent and exhausted. 

Bucky got out of bed, walking into the bathroom. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and they were clinging to his skin unbearably. He turned on the water of the shower, stripping out of his clothes and stepping under the hot spray. 

He turned his face into the water, rubbing his hands over his face and hair, feeling like he was washing away years. As he reached for the shampoo, the door of the bathroom opened and Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin. He sighed in relief, clutching his chest when he realized it was just Steve. Steve, who looked sleepy, with his hair standing in strange angles. Steve, who was totally naked; his beautiful, freckled skin on display, his heavy cock resting between his legs. 

Bucky opened the glass door of the shower, sticking his head out. “C’mere.” He crooked a finger and Steve smiled at him, walking over. He allowed Bucky to kiss him, smiling against his lips. “Are you... feeling better?” He asked tentatively, running his large hand over Bucky’s wet skin. 

“I will be once you get in here.” Bucky said, sliding his hands down Steve’s chest until he was holding his hands. Steve grinned, letting Bucky drag him into the large shower. Steve gasped a little at the heat of the shower, then was distracted by the heat by Bucky pulling him down into a kiss. 

It was slow and wet and slippery, Bucky stroking them in tandem as they kissed, Steve running hands over his body, like it would kill him not to. They whispered to each other, confessions and pleas and needy whines. It was perfect. Bucky got soap in his eyes and Steve almost fell down and brained himself on the faucet, but it was perfect all the same. It made Bucky feel whole. He didn’t think he’d ever felt whole before. 

They wrapped themselves up in Bucky’s clean, giant, super soft towels and climbed back in bed. Bucky rested his head on Steve’s chest, tracing patterns over the sensitive skin around his nipples. “So,” He sighed, “I met Alexander when I was 16,” 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Steve said quickly, but Bucky shook his head. 

“No, I…” Bucky stared at the freckle that rested in the hollow of Steve’s throat. “I need to uh, I need to get used to telling this. I think I’m gonna be telling it a lot these next few months.” 

Steve nodded, twisting Bucky’s hair in his fingers. “Not while its wet, babe.” Bucky said, smacking his hand away.

“Sit up, I’ll braid it.” Steve said, patting his shoulder. Bucky sat, leaning his back against Steve’s chest. Steve brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. He sighed, resting against Steve. 

Somehow, it was easier for Bucky to speak when he didn’t have to look at Steve. The words didn’t get caught in his throat. He wondered if it's what Steve had intended. Some things were easier to say when you didn’t have to look someone in the face. 

“It was at this bar. A really shitty place, actually. This was in BedStuy, back before it was mostly gentrified. I think I was friends with the owner’s brother or nephew or something, because he let me play there sometimes, for some extra cash. I would sneak out from whatever house I was staying at, like around 10, and play until three in the morning. The owner, he said that, y’know, between the drug deals and pickups, I lightened the place up a little. It was just me and my fucked up guitar, but it was nice. People were generous, you know? I know you guys never really busked, but it's fun, in it's own way. 

“And uh, one night, there was this guy at the bar with a suit. This wasn’t a guys-in-suits kinda place, so he stuck out a lot. He stayed for my entire set, until closing, and left. Then he showed up again the next day, and the next day, and the day after that. It was really weird, because I knew he was there for me. No one else who came to that bar ever came ‘cause of me, I was just a-a, what do you call it? A side effect. People would come to get drunk or laid, and sometimes I would be there. But this guy, I knew, I just knew that he was showing up for the express purpose of listening to me play.”

Bucky smiled ruefully, hating himself. “I sort of developed something of a crush on him. He just watched me so intently. Growing up like I did, I didn’t really ever get a chance to feel seen, y’know? For someone to pay attention to me. I mean, Clint and Nat, they tried their hardest, but they were both well into college at this point, and they didn't have time for me anymore.

“So, uh, after about two weeks of him watching me, he finally approached me. Or, he called me over to the bar. Alex doesn’t get up for other people. He told me I was beautiful. No one had ever told me that before. He said that I was talented. Said that he could take me away from everything.” Bucky swallowed. He took a breath, closing his eyes so that all he could feel was Steve’s fingers in his hair, motions repetitive and soothing. “The place where I was staying wasn’t uh, wasn’t great. It was a group home for boys, and boys can be cruel. I wanted to get away, more than anything. Pierce made it happen.”

 

_ Sitting next to him at the bar, catching Jorge’s concerned look from behind the bar and shaking his head. This man wasn’t bothering him. He wasn’t one of the creeps that came in late at night. This man was going to save him, going to make him famous. “Buy you a drink?” He asked, and Bucky blushed, shaking his head again.  _

_ “I’m not old enough to drink, Mr. Pierce.”  _

_ A warm laugh, a hand on his leg. “Call me Alex.”  _

_ “Alex.” Bucky repeated, looking at the bar rather than the man in front of him.  _

_ He nearly jumped when a hand brushed his bangs out of his face. “How would you feel about growing out your hair, James?” _

 

“He helped me get emancipated.” Bucky said, then laughed. “I feel stupid looking back on it now. I mean, I was barely on the courthouse steps before he had a pen in my hand and I was signing the contract.” 

Suddenly, he needed to know Steve was there, and he was. Bucky leaned back, just a little, and there he was, a reassuring weight at Bucky’s back. One strong arm moved slowly, wrapping itself firmly around Bucky’s stomach. It was like the safety bar on a roller coaster, and it made Bucky feel safe. “Being in the studio was like a dream come true. It wasn’t my music, but I still got to play it, you know? I was going to be rich, famous, successful. People would see me, would love me, finally pay attention to me.” He shook his head sharply, angry at his past self. He could nearly strangle that kid, shake him until some sense fell out. “Dumb son of a bitch.”

Steve brushed his hair back, an act of silent support. Bucky continued. “I was 17 when the album dropped. I think it was the same year you boys got big, right? That summer was everything. I had money for the first time in my life, and it was exhilarating, like a drug. I got an apartment, a car, people knew me when I passed them on the street.” His mouth twisted in a rye smile. “That’s when Pierce got… that’s when I first saw the strings. He had to control everything. The people I spoke to, the way I looked, where I went- I was a puppet. I still am a puppet.

“God, he had the final say on everything; which drugs I would be strung out on, how much it was acceptable for me to weigh that season, who I would fuck-” Bucky broke off, mouth closing with an audible click. “I haven’t made an autonomous choice since I was a teenager. Not-not until I met you, Steve.” 

The arm over his stomach tightened, not maliciously, but just an expression of comfort, though whether it was Bucky’s comfort or Steve’s, he wasn’t sure. Bucky’s voice came out choked. “I-I just don’t know how to be a person. I don’t know what I would do. I’ve always been under somebody else’s control, and I don’t think I can make it on my own.”

“You will.” Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck. “I know you will. You won’t be on your own, either. You have Clint and Natasha, and those kids, the ones from Silver Witch. And you have me.”

Steve pulled him closer, until they were flush together, back pressed to front. “You’ll always have me.” 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my brand new [werewolf fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096094)! It's real cute, y'all.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Bucky paced back and forth, rubbing his hands over his face so that they wouldn’t shake. 

Foggy moved like he was going to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder in motion of comfort, but stopped halfway. “It’s going to be okay, Bucky. It's only the mediation. We know going in that it’s not gonna go great, but that’s alright, because they’re not gonna get what they want either.”

“We’re expecting this to go to trial,” Matt said with a small, comforting smile. “They’re not. That means we’re a few steps ahead of them.”

Bucky shook his head. “If you think you have a leg up on Alex, it means we’ve already lost. Oh god,” He bent at the waist, breaths coming as wheezing pants. “Oh fuck, oh god.”

A tall woman with a shaved head entered the hallway, frowning at the three of them. She glanced at the folder in her hands. “Mr. Barnes?” Bucky nodded, unable to speak. The woman looked at Foggy and Matt, looking somewhat concerned. 

Matt sent a smile her way. “Are you Mediator Okoye?”

“I am.” She said, nodding professionally, tucking the folder under her arm. “Do you know where the other party is?”

Bucky made a small panicked sound at the mention of Pierce. He wanted to call Steve, to keep him on speaker phone throughout this ordeal, to ask him to fly back from Indianapolis and hold his hand. 

The mediator looked at him, frowning. “Are you okay?” When Bucky didn’t answer, she looked to Foggy. “Is he okay?”

“I think he’s just feeling a little nervous about this.” Foggy said, then turned to Bucky, lowering his voice. “Do you need a minute?”

Bucky shook his head. “I can do this.” He said, more to himself than to Foggy. “I can do this.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit down,” The mediator said, unlocking the office room and turning on the light. “We can wait for them inside.”

“Thank you.” Matt said, picking up his briefcase and walking into the room. Foggy led him to a chair with a hand on his back and Bucky followed them, holding the door for the mediator. She nodded in thanks and took her position at the table. 

Bucky didn’t feel like sitting, but he took his seat anyway, leg bouncing nervously. He was wearing a suit, and it felt like it was strangling him. “Hey,” Matt whispered, patting Bucky’s leg. “It's gonna be okay.” 

“Okay.” Bucky said. He took a deep breath and held it, forcing himself to relax. He unclenched his fists and loosened the muscles in his back. 

Then Alexander walked in, and he was nearly sent into a panic spiral. 

He was wearing a three piece suit and a smug smile that he sent in Bucky’s direction. “James,” Pierce said, his voice dripping with saccharine disappointment, like a disapproving parent. “Do we really have to do this?”

Bucky immediately shrunk in on himself, looking down at the desk in front of him. 

“Please don’t speak to my client.” Matt said, suddenly all sharp edges and firm voice.    


The tallest of the three men who had entered the room with Pierce chuckled. “If we don’t speak to each other, how are we going to get anything done?”   


“Your client has influence over mine due to prolonged years of emotional abuse.” Matt replied. “I would prefer if he didn’t try to manipulate him further.” 

“That’s a baseless allegation.” One of the other men said, taking his seat. 

The third man spoke, a superior tilt to his lips. “Not to mention completely ridiculous.”

“Gentlemen.” Mediator Okoye sighed. “You’ll have time to trade barbs later. Let’s talk about this contract, shall we?”   


Matt nodded, opening his briefcase and pulling out his braille version of the contract. “Right. I’d like to declare this contract void.”

“On what grounds?” One of the men asked, raising his eyebrows.

Foggy cleared his throat. “This is clearly an adhesion contract. Our client signed this when he was a minor-”

“An  _ emancipated  _ minor-” One of Pierce’s attorneys cut in. 

“Who was in a weakened bargaining position due to his age and status. He was manipulated into signing a contract that exploited him.” Matt added.

Pierce scoffed and said, “Exploited him? I got him out of that shithole. I made him rich, made him famous. I saved him.” 

“Mister Pierce.” Mediator Okoye scolded. “You will remain civil.”

The lawyer closest to Pierce set a hand on his arm. “I think what my client is trying to say is that you’re using very strong language, Mister Murdock. Define exploitation."

“In a legal sense?” Foggy asked, a small smile on his face. “Matt?”

“Well, Foggy, one is guilty of exploitation if he or she knowingly, by deception or intimidation, obtain or use, or try to obtain or use, someone else’s funds, assets, or property with the intent to to benefit themselves or someone other than said person.” Matt replied.

Foggy nodded. “Yeeeeah. I’d say that Mr. Pierce knowingly intimidated and deceived Mr. Barnes in order to use and benefit off of his image.”

“Please. He had no image before me.” Alex said, then looked at Bucky. “What are we doing here, James?” He stood. “When you’re done with this little tantrum, I’ll be waiting.” With that, he buttoned his jacket and walked out of the room. His lawyers all looked after him, and mediator Okoye was rubbing her forehead like she had a headache. 

The tallest of the lawyers stood, addressing Matt and Foggy. “If your client doesn’t comply with our terms in the next two weeks, you can be expecting a breach of contract suit.”

“And you can expect a counter suit on your desk by tomorrow.” Foggy stood, standing. “We’re receding from this contract. It's unreasonable and cruel. Pierce and HYDRA Entertainment will not be getting their hands back on my client ever again. Good day, sir.”  He grabbed his briefcase, then stopped and turned to mediator Okoye. “Sorry for bringing you into the office.”

With that, he helped Matt, then stormed out of the room. Bucky glanced at the lawyers and the mediator, then followed them. They got all the way out of the room before Foggy let out a gusty breath and Matt started laughing. “That was awesome, Fog.” 

“Holy shit, did you see that?” Foggy asked giddily. “I mean, obviously you didn’t, but holy shit man.” 

Matt grinned, throwing an arm over Foggy’s shoulders. “Good day, sir.” He mimicked Foggy’s voice. “Bad. Ass.” 

Bucky’s walking stuttered at a halt, and when they realized that he wasn’t behind them, Matt and Foggy stopped, too. “Bucky?” 

“Hello James.” Pierce said, an easy grin on his face. “We should talk.”   


Matt pushed himself in front of Bucky and Foggy, fists clenched. “Absolutely not.” 

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” Pierce replied, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. He looked past Matt to Bucky. Bucky shied away, tucking himself further behind Matt’s back. “This little game has gone far enough. You do not want what happens next. This will go to trial. It will be public. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Bucky blinked, then stepped out from behind Matt. “Yeah.” He nodded, starting to grin. “Yeah, I do. It means you’re afraid.”   


Pierce crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re-” 

“You don’t want this to go to trial, because then the world will see who you are.” Bucky took a step forward, feeling emboldened. “You’re afraid. You know you’re gonna lose me. Whether you win or not, you’ve lost me. And once you’ve lost me, you’ve got nothing.”

“Please,” Pierce scoffed. “There are a thousand other pretty faces that would kill to work for me. You’re a dime a dozen, kiddo.” Pierce hasn’t called him  _ ‘kiddo’ _ since he was a teenager and he was still trying to charm him. He was nervous, he was slipping up. 

Bucky smiled. “Not after we’re done with you.” With that, he walked past Alexander, still somewhat afraid, but no longer panicked. 

Matt and Foggy flanked him, walking behind him like they were his bodyguards. “Bad ass.” Foggy whispered. 

Bucky blushed. “Thanks.” 

“Are you ready for this?” Matt asked, putting a hand on Bucky’s back. Bucky took a stealing breath and nodded. 

“Yeah,” He said, taking off his tie. “Yeah, I think I am.”


	19. Chapter 19

 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Bucky sighed, and Barney gave him a sheepish shrug. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Barnes.” The doorman to his apartment said, and he did sound deeply remorseful. “Can’t let you go up. Boss called, said you’re not allowed.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck me.” Foggy and Matt both began protesting, but Bucky just walked out of the building, sitting on the curb. 

He fiddled with his phone for a few moments before saying, “You might as well show yourself, Brock. I know you’re here.” Rumlow stepped out from behind a corner, though he didn’t sit next Bucky on the ground, preferring to loom. 

“Hey, babe.” He said with a sly nod, leaning against Bucky’s apartment building.  _ Former  _ apartment building, he supposed. 

“I guess you’re here to threaten me into dropping the case,” Bucky said, not really a question.

Rumlow shrugged one shoulder, walking closer to Bucky. “Mr. Pierce wanted me to check up on you.”    


“Yeah,” Bucky said dryly. “I’m sure he’s real concerned. Listen, Brock. I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t scare me. Let Pierce know that kicking me out of my house and sending you to pick on me isn’t gonna make me go running back to him.” 

Brock made a face, not mocking or unkind, but something else, something strange that didn’t sit well on his face. “I’d play along with him if I were you. I think it’d be in your best interests.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Bucky said flippantly. “I’ll take my chances in court.” 

“Listen.” Rumlow told Bucky, voice almost quiet. “I don’t know what you said to him today, but he was pissed. Next time, he might not send me just to talk.”

“You think he might try and hurt me?” Bucky asked, not exactly worried, but certainly unsettled. 

Rumlow shrugged once again, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “You know Pierce. I don’t think there’s anything he won’t do to get what he wants.”

“If he can’t have me, no one can? That seems a little… Disney villain, even for him.” Bucky mused. 

Brock snorted, shaking his head. He paused, then finally looked at Bucky. “I’d just… watch my back if I were you.” 

Bucky frowned, confused at the concern behind the words. “I… yeah. Thanks for the heads up, Brock.” 

“Next time you see me, I might not be so helpful.” Rumlow said, tone gruff again. “See you around, sweetheart.” With that, he buried his hands in his pockets and sauntered off. Foggy and Matt came out of the building just as he was leaving.

“Who was that?” Foggy asked, frowning in Rumlow’s direction.

Bucky was still reeling a little, and he shook his head. “That was Brock fuckin’ Rumlow.”

“That prick?” Matt puffed up a little, like he was readying himself for a fight. “What did he want?”

“I’m… not entirely sure.” Bucky said, looking down at his phone. “I think Pierce sent him? But he seemed-” He frowned. “I think he was warning me. That he was afraid for me. Brock, I don’t know, he’s a jackass, but he’s sort of in love with me in his own, fucked-up way. So I think he’s worried about what Pierce will do.” He held up his phone. “I recorded the conversation.” 

Matt broke out into a grin. Foggy outright laughed. “Amazing.”

“Here,” Bucky said, typing away on his phone. “I’m emailing it to both of you now. And Natasha, just in case.” 

“Make sure she doesn’t publish that.” Matt said quickly. “We can use it as a last resort if the case starts to go south.”

Bucky nodded, sending a quick message to Natasha. “Great. Now all I need is to find a place to stay."

“About that,” Foggy said with a small frown. “It's not entirely legal for Pierce to kick you out of your apartment, but it's not entire illegal, either. You should’ve been given notice, and time to find another place. We could sue, but-”

“I don’t really care.” Bucky said. “I wasn’t particularly attached to that place, it's just sort of annoying. I just want my stuff.”

“It looks good for us, though. It's another example of Pierce as a manipulator.” Matt told him. “I’d offer you my couch, but-”

“Pierce owns that too, shit.” A sudden realization hit Bucky and he grimaced. “Listen, if you get kicked out because of me, I’ll happily pay for you to find someplace else.

“My significant other is the one with her name on the lease. If Pierce does some digging, he might be able to find out that I’m living here, but even if that happens, it's not your problem.” Matt said with a small smile. 

Bucky nodded, still feeling slightly guilty. He thought out loud. “I could call Natasha, but she’s already putting up Clint. I don’t even know where the twins live…” He sighed, then looked at Matt and Foggy. “I’m gonna call someone real quick.” He took two steps away from them, to give himself some semblance of privacy, then dialed Steve.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice was warm, like he was smiling. “How’d it go?”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. “Not great, but I survived. Listen, uh, I just got evicted.”

“What?” Steve asked incredulously. “Why?”   
He couldn’t help but laugh at Steve’s tone of voice. “Yeah, turns out that Pierce owns the building and he’s not all that happy with me right now. I don’t want to put you out, but can I crash at your place?”

“Of course, Buck. There’s a spare key under the mat.” Steve answered almost immediately. He was so good, Bucky thought. So overwhelmingly  _ good.  _

“Christ, it's like you want to get robbed.” Bucky scolded, but he was smiling fondly. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve gave a breathy chuckle. “It's not a problem. Hell, you could even move in if you-” He cut himself off abruptly, like he had said to much. Bucky’s smile grew on his face, until it was so wide that his cheeks ached. 

“You want me to move in with you?” He asked, his own voice squeaky in disbelief and excitement. 

Foggy and Matt, who had pretended not to be eavesdropping, both looked up at that. Foggy even gave him a thumbs-up. Bucky snorted at them, listening to Steve’s half-panicked babble on the other end of the phone. “No, I mean, yes, I would love that, but you don’t need to feel- I don’t want to pressure you to, I mean it's unfair of me to put you in this position, I’m in no way giving you an ultimatum or-or saying that if you stay with me you can’t-”

“Steve.” Bucky said, grinning. “I would love to move in with you.”

There were a few beats of silence and then Steve whispered, “Really?”

“Really.” Bucky said. “I love you, and I love your place. I just need a walk-in closet, a vanity, and a place to put my piano.”

Steve laughed, a delighted, sweet little laugh, and said, “Anything you want.” 

 

-

 

Natasha published everything she had the next day. Bucky was glad he was holed up in Steve’s Brooklyn brownstone. After Natasha’s article was released, his phone had been blowing up, and he was sure that his apartment was surrounded by paps. 

Bucky didn’t read it. He didn’t go online, afraid to see what people would say about him. Instead, he put on some of Steve’s clothes and watched Netflix. Eventually he got hungry enough to peel himself off the couch. He raided the kitchen, gleefully eating high-calorie food; the frost-bitten ice cream that was hiding the back of Steve’s freezer, some sugary, colorful cereal, and a bag of slightly stale chips. 

He had basically built a nest of blankets and crumbs and self-pity when his phone rang with a ringtone he recognized. He put his earbuds in and answered. “Hello?” Bucky asked, mouth full. 

“Buck, hey.” Steve sounded a little nervous, like he was worried that Bucky had spent the day curled in a ball. 

“Hey,” Bucky replied, pausing the TV. 

There was a pause, and some rustling, like Steve was walking out of a room. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky laughed a little. “I’ve been on full media blackout. I’m just hiding in your apartment, hoping maybe to go into hibernation or slip into a coma until this all blows over. I’m afraid to leave the house and my phone is ringing relentlessly.”

Steve chuckled. “Me too. Guess who called me today?”

“Fuckin’ everybody?” Bucky asked, incredulous. 

Steve laughed. “Well yeah. But someone else. You remember T’Challa?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said leadinging.

“Apparently his girlfriend is friends with Peggy’s wife, and Angie gave him my number. He wants you to do an interview with you for the Times. Something about the insidiousness of the music industry or something.” Steve told him. 

“Huh.” Bucky said with a smile. “Sounds fun and uplifting.” He leaned back against the couch, pulling his knees to his chest. “I miss you.” He whispered, wrapping an arm around himself. Suddenly, he wished Steve was holding him. 

Maybe it wasn’t actually that sudden, since he had wish that Steve had been holding him all day, keeping him safe from both the outside world and his own self-destructive tendencies. Maybe he always wants that, but Steve had a singular way of making him feel centered, whole. Even when the world was falling down around him, like it was today. Even when Bucky felt relentlessly fragile, Steve could keep him safe, and he didn’t mind if Bucky fell apart a little. 

“I miss you too.” Steve said. 

“We should get a cat.” Bucky said suddenly. “Or a dog. You’re probably a dog person, aren’t you?  We should get a dog. Or both. A dog and a cat. That are best friends.”

Steve laughed a little. “You feeling a little lonely, Barnes?”

“Someone’s gotta keep me company when you’re on tour.” Bucky said. “And it's not gonna be T’Challa. Maybe Matt. Can we adopt Matt?” 

Steve snorted. “Don’t you have a pair of strays anyway?” 

“The twins?” Bucky shook his head. “They’re like alley cats. They expect me to feed them but I’m not allowed to pet them. This… simile got away from me. Still. I think we should get a pet.”

Steve hummed. “We’re both pretty busy people. What about when we’re both touring?”

“I doubt I’ll be touring again anytime soon.” Bucky said dryly. “It's not like I’m gonna have much of a career after this.” 

“Buck,” Steve said, like he was trying to reassure him. 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not all that broken up about it. I think I’m gonna try my hand at house wifery. House dresses, frilly aprons, nice high heels.” He grinned. “I’ll have a cocktail ready and dinner on the table when you get home.”

“You’d get stir crazy within a week.” Steve told him, a smile in his voice. 

“You’re probably right.” Bucky sighed. “Christ, I don’t know what I’m gonna do after this.I’ve got no skills and no job experience. I don’t even have my high school diploma. I only know how to do one thing, and there’s no way that Pierce is gonna let me ever play music again.” 

Steve huffed. “It’s not up to him.” 

“Isn’t it?” Bucky laughed quietly. “Look, even if I win, Pierce owns my image. I’m not gonna ever be James Winter again.”

“You don’t have to be.” Steve said. “You’re a great musician. You’re really goddamn talented.”

Bucky shrugged, dismissing Steve’s optimism. “Maybe.” 

“Bucky, it's not actually all that bad,” Steve said quietly. “I mean, yeah, you’re trending, but Buck-” Steve chuckled. “It's overwhelmingly positive. There’s even a hashtag."

Bucky’s mouth went dry, blinking a few times. “R-really?’ Despite what Natasha and Matt had been reassuring him, Bucky had been sure that the world would turn against him, because they always turned against him. Bucky was so used to the public hating them, that the thought of having their support was unbelievable to him.

“Yeah. Something like, ‘I Stand With James’.” Steve said, a smile in his voice. “Bucky, I know you don’t believe it, but people love you.”

“They love to see me miserable,” Bucky replied, a rye, unhappy laugh in his throat. “Steve, they’re all over this because of schadenfreude. They’re just pretending that they care.” 

Steve made a humming sound, like he wanted to disagree with Bucky. “Maybe.” He said. “But I think you’re being cynical. Why don’t you check out Twitter?”

Bucky winced, because his normal, nearly compulsive every-day checking of Twitter was almost a form of self-punishment for him. “Fine.” He said, going to the app. 

 

_ @blackwidow says: _

_ How HYDRA Entertainment and Alexander Pierce made (and unmade) James Winter by Natasha Romanoff [ _ _ link _ _ ]  _

_ | _

_ @TonyFuckingStark replied: _

_ holy shit. everybody should read this. Alexander Pierce is a monster #istandwithjameswinter _

_ | _

_ @Buzzfeed replied: _

_ James Winter is being sued for breaking contract with his management. He’s suing back for harassment and abuse. Here’s what you need to know [ _ _ link _ _ ] _

_ | _

_ @HowlingGabe replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because making music shouldn’t enduring mean years of abuse _

_ | _

_ @HowlingJacques replied: _

_ #istandwithjames parce que l'amour ne devrait pas avoir de contrat _

_ | _

_ @HowlingJim replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because teenagers can’t give informed consent _

_ | _

_ @HowlingMonty replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because sexualizing kids to make money is deplorable _

_ | _

_ @HowlingDumDum replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because forcing someone to take drugs is sickening _

_ | _

_ @ScarletWanda replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because he is a beautiful person who deserves to be known _

_ | _

_ @SilverPietro replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because he’s a generous, good man who is tired of making fucking club music _

_ | _

_ @HawkBarton replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because nobody fucks with my goddamn family _

_ | _

_ @samfalconwilson replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because DNP and crash dieting is dangerous _

_ | _

_ @yooeyitszooey replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because... _

_ | _

_ @datbryn replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because... _

_ | _

_ @jesuiskendall replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because... _

_ | _

_ @puddingtame replied: _

_ #istandwithjames because... _

  
  


“Oh,” Bucky said quietly, scrolling through his timeline faster and faster. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh, wow.” 

“They’re with you, Buck.” Steve said, voice soft and kind. “They’re all with you.” 


	20. Chapter 20

 

“Are you sure?” Clint stood behind him nervously. Bucky glanced at him in the mirror, then nodded.

Weeks had gone by, and the trial was starting tomorrow. Matt and Foggy had both reassured him that everything was going to be fine, but Bucky couldn’t help but spiralling into panic. He had left Steve’s apartment maybe twice since Natasha’s article had dropped.

He had hired movers to clear out his apartment, though he ended up donating most of his furniture.  Steve had given him the all-clear to move around anything he wanted. Bucky had spent days compulsively organizing and reorganizing the apartment, just so he could have something to do. The trial was moving ever closer, like the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. 

“Do it.” Bucky said, then squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Clint’s hand on his ponytail, then heard the snip of the scissors. His hair fell around his temples, and Bucky opened his eyes, seeing Clint standing behind him. 

He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, then turned the clippers on, buzzing the sides of his head. It made Bucky think of their childhood, back when Clint would cut his hair, a little messy and a little too short, but great all the same. “There,” Clint said, brushing hair off of Bucky’s shoulder. 

“You’ve gotten better,” Bucky said, examining himself in the mirror, turning his head from side to side. It looked good, short on the sides and long on top, a little Carey Grant, a little Kristen Stewart. He smiled, rubbing his hand over his head. It felt freeing, like Pierce’s last grasp on him was gone. Another shackle loosened. 

Clint grinned, ruffling his hair. “Looks good, kid.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky grabbed the broom, starting to sweep the floors. 

Sam’s voice called from the living room. “Guys, come look!” They looked at each other, then walked out of the room.

“What?” Bucky asked. 

Sam nodded to the TV, pointing at it with the remote. “Your doctor’s on the TV.” 

“Oh.” Bucky watched the news as Zola’s picture appeared on the screen, the reporter’s voice announcing,  _ “Made famous by the James Winter suit, Doctor Arnim Zola has been stripped of his licence by the New York State Medical Board. The Board released a statement calling Mr. Zola a ‘danger to his patients and society’” _

Natasha was sitting on the couch, watching with rapt attention, and Clint was grimacing as the TV continued by talking about everything the man had done to Bucky. Sam caught his eye and half smiled. “One down,”

It made Bucky feel sick, and he couldn’t just stand there and watch, fear and revulsion and anger warring in the pit of his stomach. 

He left the room to sit at the piano, fingers hesitating for a moment before flitting over the keys in a  [ Rachmaninoff ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=whUhTYya8YU) , one that was angry and anxious, perfect for how he was feeling. He hoped it would serve as a warning to his friends not to try and approach him, because he knew that he would snap at anyone trying to comfort him. The last thing he needed to do was isolate the people he loved right now, no matter how much his unhealthy mind wanted to.

Eventually, even the act of playing made him feel frustrated, knowing that he would probably never be able to make music again. He abandoned the piano in favor of the shower. The stray hairs that he hadn’t been able to get off of his neck started to itch, and he channeled that furious energy into getting clean. What he really wanted was to run until he felt weak, exhaust himself, maybe tale boxing lessons from Matt. But Steve’s building didn’t have a gym, and he couldn’t go to somewhere public at the risk of being recognized. Instead he just ran his fingers through his hair, still surprised by it's shortness. He kept wanting to tuck it behind his ears, but there was nothing to tuck. At least this small thing left him feeling smug. 

He changed clothes, the walked back into his living room, feeling a little bit better, and a little embarrassed. Since everything went public, his mood has been all over the place, and seeing Zola’s face had sent him into a panic spiral. 

As he walked into the living room, his friends, who had been talking amongst themselves, all looked up. Natasha stood, brushing imaginary lint off her pants. “You need to get out of the house.”

“What?” Bucky frowned, crossing his arms. “No I don’t.” 

“James, you haven’t left this apartment for three weeks. The only people you ever see are us and your lawyers. You haven’t even stepped outside to smoke.” She pointed out. 

Bucky pouted. “I’ve left the house.”

“Once,” Sam said. “Because you were legally required to attend the pretrial hearing.” 

“I also did that interview with T’Challa.” He muttered petulantly. 

Natasha just rolled her eyes. “We’re not letting you become a shut-in at 21. Your too young for that, and it's not a good look on you.” 

Bucky wanted to protest that he wasn’t a shut in, but the evidence seemed pretty damning. He wondered if he was developing agoraphobia, thinking of the hour long panic attacks he had both times he had needed to leave Steve’s apartment. Maybe he was becoming a shut in. “So?” 

“Bucky,” Clint rolled his eyes. 

“No, seriously,” Bucky waved his hands around. “What’s so bad about that? It's the 21st century, its built for shut ins. I can order anything I want online. I can watch every episode of every TV show. I don’t have to see anyone I don’t want to. It's great. Actually, it's perfect. It's ideal.” 

Sam let out a gusty sigh, clapping Bucky on he shoulder. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get out of the house.”

Bucky looked at him, then at the door, then shrunk in on himself. “I don’t wanna.” 

“ _ Bratik _ ,” Natasha put a hand on his arm, a concerned look in her eye. “What are you afraid of?” 

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know! Basically, like, everything. I guess. I don’t want to be recognized, I don’t want people yelling at me and taking pictures, I don’t want to answers questions,  don’t want Pierce’s men to shoot me in the fucking head.” 

“So you’re just gonna, what, bury your head in the sand?” Natasha asked, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna let him force you into hiding?”

“No,” Bucky said, scowling. “I just- I’m just scared, okay? In here, I don’t have to face everything that’s happening, I can pretend to be a-a normal person for a few damn minutes. Out there, I’m-I’m fucking chum in the water, waiting for the sharks. I won’t be able to pretend that I’m okay, and they’ll see it, and they’ll eat me.” 

Natasha, Sam, and Clint all looked at him, varying expressions on their faces. Bucky looked away, squirming uncomfortably. “I just, I used to know where I stood with most people. Pierce was shitty for a lot of reasons, but he knew how to maintain an image. Now, I don’t know what people think of me, I don’t know how to act, don’t know how to do anything without the goddamn fucking-” He waved a hand. “Puppet strings.” 

“Buck,” Clint said, taking both of his shoulders. “I’m gonna tell you something real important. It. Doesn’t Matter.” He shook Bucky a little with each word, and smiled. “It doesn’t matter what 99% of people think of you. What matters is where you stand with yourself and the people you care about.” 

Bucky looked down, nodding a little. He knuckled the traitorous tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and nodded again. “Okay,” He said softly. “Alright.” 

Clint wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, squeezing him close. Natasha took up the other side, wrapping her small hand around Bucky’s. Sam nodded at the three of them, then opened the door. Bucky took a stealing breath and stepped outside. 

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked, after they had walked about five blocks away from Steve’s apartment. He hadn’t even thought to ask, too paralyzed just from the act of leaving. He finally felt a little more confident in his stride. No one had stopped him on the street, and there wasn’t even that much staring. Maybe without the classic long hair, no one noticed it was him. But now, without second-check his every move, he wondered where his friends were leading him. 

“Just… about here.” Sam said, checking his phone for the address. “Yeah, this is the place.” Bucky squinted at him, then at the building they were standing in front of. 

“And where is here?” Bucky asked, frowning. There was a soft tinkling sound as the door opened, and Bucky grinned, running forward and tackling Steve in a hug. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, voice muffled by Steve’s skin. Steve chuckled, kissing his cheek, the bristles of his tour beard scratching Bucky’s face. Steve ran a hand over Bucky’s hair. 

“I like this.” He said, and Bucky grinned, blushing a little. 

He punched Steve in the arm lightly. “Really? It's not too short?”

“It's perfect.” Steve said simply, and kissed Bucky. Bucky grinned, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. 

Someone cleared their throat, and Steve and Bucky broke apart, looking back at the three bystanders. Bucky just flipped them off. Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Should we go inside?” 

Bucky looked up at the building, only then realizing that they were in front of the Brooklyn Animal Rescue. He grinned, looking at Steve. “Really?” He asked giddily, like a kid seeing a plentiful bounty on Christmas. 

“Really really.” Steve said, wrapping an arm around Bucky. “Let’s go.” 

They walked into the building, Sam, Natasha, and Clint at their backs. A cheerful woman was waiting for them inside. “Hi! I hear you’re interested in adopting?” 

“I- uh, yeah.” Bucky said, glancing at Steve like he was looking for permission. Steve just squeezed his waist.

“Dog or cat?” She asked. 

“Cat.” Bucky said, just as Steve said, “Dog.”

“Oh, uh…” Bucky looked down. “Dog.” Steve look over at him and smiled. 

“Both.” Steve said. “One of each.” Bucky moved a little closer to him, smiling to himself. “Clint?”

Clint nodded at Steve in thanks, stepping forward and clapping them on the shoulder. “As your personal security officer-” Clint cut in, and Bucky frowned.

“Since when are you my-”

“As your personal security officer,” Clint repeated louder. “I think it's important that you get a dog that can protect you. I’ve already spoken to Deborah here, and she’s emailed me a very promising list of candidates.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “Oh! I wondered why you were just looking at pictures of dogs this morning.” 

“I thought he was just… looking at dogs.” Natasha said with a shrug. “It’s not like he hasn’t he done it before.” 

Deborah clapped her hands together, grinning. “I’ll show you all of our dogs currently up for adoption, but Mr. Barton and Mr. Rogers specifically requested to see three of our dogs.” She looked at the five of them and grimaced. “Unfortunately, only allow two people at a time into our visitation rooms.” 

Clint made a sad sound, and Bucky glanced over at him, then Bucky looked at Steve. “I trust you and Clint to find a good dog.”

“All dogs are good dogs, Bucky.” Steve said seriously as Clint jumped up and down with glee. 

Deborah smiled. “The cat room is down the hall to the left. Josh should be in there, he’ll help you or with anything you need.”

Bucky thanked her, then nodded at Natasha. She followed him to the cat room. Sam looked between the two groups, then sat down in the waiting area. 

“Hi, I’m Josh! How can I-“ The young man’s eyes went a little wide, and he shook his head before continuing. “Are you looking to adopt today?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, giving him a smile.

“Great!” Josh squeaked, fumbling for his keys. “The cats are right this way. You have any specifics in mind?” 

The cacophony of meows was almost overwhelming as they entered the room. “Uh, soft and good with dogs?” Bucky yelled, looking around at the metal cages lining the walls. One of the cats stood and rubbed its face against the bars. “Aww,” He said, walking over and sticking a few fingers through the cages, rubbing the cat’s ears. It purred loudly, chewing his fingers. It was a baby; scrawny, with gray fur and one blue eye. The other was fogged over, clearly blind. 

“That’s one of our newer kittens.” Josh said. “He and his litter were rescued from a pretty bad hoarding situation in the city. All of his brothers and sisters were adopted, but this little guy was the runt, and no one’s looked at him so far. Do you want to hold him?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, and Natasha was laughing, shaking her head. 

“The first damn cat you see.” She said, but Bucky ignored her, cooing as he was handed the kitten. It immediately sniffed Bucky’s cheek, then rubbed its face against his jaw, scent marking him.

“I’m in love.” Bucky proclaimed, rubbing his nose against the kitten’s head. He looked at Josh. “What do I sign?” 

Bucky, cradling the kitten in one arm, signed all the adoption papers, naming the cat Polyphemus. Josh gave him the paperwork and a carrier, then sold him some kitten food. Bucky also threw in a hefty donation to the shelter, taking his cat to the waiting room. Steve and Clint were both there, both with dogs. “Did you get two dogs?”

“No, I got one dog,” Steve said, leaning down to pat the pitbull next to him. It was white with patchwork spots of brown, matching the brown of its eyes. “But Clint also got a dog.”

Natasha put her hands on her hips. “Clint, you got a dog?” 

Clint, who was holding a large golden retriever close to his chest, looks slightly defensive. “So?”

“You don’t have a house.” Natasha said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re staying at my apartment.” 

“Oh.” Clint set down the dog, and it whined, tail wagging. “Sorry Lucky,” Clint said, scratching the dog’s ears.

Natasha sighed heavily. “You can keep him.”

“Really?” Clint asked, picking Natasha up in a hug and spinning her around. “Thank you! I love you.”   
  


“Put me down, you lunatic.” Natasha grumbled, face pink. “I’m not cleaning up after him. He’s your responsibility.” She cleared her throat and added in a quick mumble, "I love you, too."

Clint nodded vigorously and Bucky laughed, shaking his head. He stepped closer to Steve, smiling and lifting the sleeping kitten so he could see. “This is Polyphemus.” 

Steve grinned, peering closer at the cat, rubbing his little pink nose with a finger. “Poly- Pola, um.” 

“You can call him Paul.” Bucky laughed. He nodded at the dog. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s grin turned dopey. “This is Harriet.” Bucky handed the kitten to Steve and crouched down, greeting the pitbull. She sniffed his face and huffed, inching closer to him. Bucky rubbed her head, and her tail wagged, tongue lolling out. 

“Hi, Harriet.” Bucky said, and the dog’s cold nose pressed into his cheek. He giggled, wiping his face and standing. “Good pick.”

“You too,” Steve said, pressing a scratchy kiss to Bucky’s temple. There was a camera click, and Bucky looked up to see Natasha holding her phone. 

He smiled, gesturing to the phone. “Let me see.”

She showed him the picture, of him and Steve and Harriet and Polyphemus, framed like a sweet family photo. It made Bucky’s heart swell to look at, and he smiled. “Send that to me.” He said. “I’m gonna post it.”

“You don’t have access to the James Winter account anymore, do you?” Sam asked with a frown. He was playing tug-of-war with Lucky as Clint signed the adoption papers. 

“Nope.” James said with a shrug. “But it's not like I’m James Winter anymore, Pierce doesn't control me. I can post whatever I want, right?” 

“Right.” Natasha said with a smile.

-

_ @JamesBBarnes says: _

_ Steve and I made two adorable additions to our family today! [image attached] _

_ @HowlingSteve retweeted: _

_ Meet Harriet and Polyphemus!  <3 <3 <3 “Steve and I made two adorable…”  _

_ @myheartishowling says: _

_ oh my god oh my god oh my god james and steve are back together and buying pets oh my god im dyinggggggggggg  _

_ @getbackinthewoodshop says: _

_ DID YALL SEE JAMES WINTERS HAIRCUT oh and his adorable boyfriend and pets i’m in love _

_ @Buzzfeed says: _

_ Steve Rogers and James “Winter” Barnes adopted a dog and cat together and we’re dying of cute! _

_ @People says: _

_ James Winter creates a new twitter account, post picture of himself and Howling Commandos member Steve Rogers  _

_ - _

“Don’t you have to be in Tennessee?” Bucky asked twisting his shirt around in his hands. 

Steve grabbed his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Not for another nine hours. I’ll be with you until then.” 

“Okay,” Bucky let out a huff of breath. “Okay.” 

Matt ta pped his cane against the ground, a nervous tic of his. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Bucky huffed, trying to tuck his hair behind his ear. It was too short, and fell into his eyes. His breath hitched and he doubled over as another wave of panic overtook him. “Oh, good christ.” 

Steve cupped the back of his neck, rubbing small circles into his skin. “You’re alright, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

“I can’t do it.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t, I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can, Buck.” Steve said, leaning down to meet his eyes. Harriet padded over, nosing at Bucky’s hand. He brushed her fur, trying to match his breaths to hers. Polyphemus jumped down from the couch and brushed against his legs affectionately. 

Steve cupped Bucky’s face, running his thumbs along Bucky’s cheekbone. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

“No you won’t.” Bucky said, cracking a smile. “You have to go to Nashville.” 

“Okay, I’ll be there for the first couple of hours.” Steve said with a small chuckle. “But for the rest of the time, I’ll be with you in spirit.”  

Bucky let out a breath, then nodded. He looked over at Matt. “Okay. We got this?”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a grin. “We’ve got this.” 

Bucky nodded again, and Steve reached out, straightening his tie and fixing his collar. “Let’s go.” Bucky stood on his tiptoes and kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth, then opened the door. 

“Okay.” He repeated, then stepped out the door. “Let’s do this thing.” 

The court room was packed, photographers and reporter lining the stands. Bucky, with Steve’s hand in his, walked down the hall. Pierce and his lawyers were there, and Bucky quickly looked away from them. Steve squeezed his hand, then took his seat next to Natasha and the Maximoff twins. Bucky let out a breath, then sat down next to Foggy and Matt. Foggy clapped his shoulder with a kind smile and a reassuring nod.

 

-

 

_ HYDRA Entertainment v. Barnes _ lasted two and a half weeks. It felt much longer, and the media coverage was relentless. Matt and Foggy quickly became media darlings, as Bucky tried his best to stay out of the way of the limelight, letting the two of them do all the talking. 

He mostly sat in the defendant’s seat, gripping the edge of his table with white knuckles, trying to comprehend what was being said, and ignoring the feeling of eyes on his back. Bucky spent the time of the trial running between the courtroom and hiding in Steve’s apartment, curled up with Harriet and Polyphemus. 

Steve, the best and most supportive boyfriend in the world, travelled back and forth, going from concert to Bucky, spending as much time as he possibly could comforting him and keeping him from spiraling into a complete mental breakdown.

After the about a week of flying between New York and the south, Steve was dead on his feet, only catching a few hours of sleep between performing and flying and sitting in the courtroom and holding Bucky’s hand. Watching Steve waste away for him only made Bucky feel worse, and he finally sat Steve down and promised that he would be okay without Steve’s constant presence. 

Steve still called him everyday, his very voice chipping away at Bucky’s anxiety. With everything that was coming to light in the trial: the drugs, the sex, the abuse, the manipulation, Bucky was growing more and more terrified that it would all be for nothing. If he had gone through all this and wasn’t free of Pierce, he might just go completely insane. 

HYDRA’s team of lawyers were arguing a strong case for the firmness of the contract, and Bucky, Matt and Foggy all knew that it was extremely airtight. Their only chance was to convince the jury that the contract itself was void, and pity wasn’t legally voiding. 

There was a knock on the door. “Jury’s done deliberating, you ready?” 

Bucky startled, unlocking the door at looking at Matt. “Already? That seemed fast. Was that fast? Oh, god.” 

“They were in there for three hours, Bucky.” Foggy said. “And you’ve been hiding in the bathroom for the whole time. C’mon, bud.” He offered Bucky an arm, a gesture usually reserved for Matt. 

Bucky took the arm, still shaky on his feet. Natasha was leaning against the sink. “This is the boy’s room.” Bucky said dumbly, and she smiled, walking up to give him a hug. 

“No matter what happens, you don’t belong to him. You’re so strong, Bucky. You showed everybody how strong you are.” She whispered. He turned his face into her hair, letting her hold him for a few moments. 

He finally pulled away, letting out a steadying breath. “Thank you.” She cupped his cheek briefly;  a fond, motherly gesture. “Okay,” Bucky nodded, looking at Matt and Foggy. “I’m ready.”

They walked out into the hallway, greeted by camera flashes and shouted questions. Natasha elbowed a path for them, and Bucky had to pause of a moment before they entered the courtroom. “You okay?” Matt asked. 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “Yeah, I’m good.” He pushed the doors open, walking into the courtroom. He took his seat, then stood again when the judge returned. Juror number one stood, and Bucky held his breath. The room was so silent that he wanted to shout. The buzzing in his ears was so loud that he couldn’t understand her first few words. 

“...believe that the contract shows that HYDRA Entertainment owns the image and name of James Winter.”

Bucky let out his breath, shoulders slumping. The room at large murmured softly, and more pictures were taken. 

“However,” Juror one added. “We believe that Mr. Barnes is under no obligation to remain under contract. While James Winter is owned by HYDRA, Mr. Barnes is not.” 

The murmuring grew louder and Bucky put a hand over his mouth, tears springing to his eyes. 

“Furthermore, we believe that HYDRA Entertainment, and specifically, Alexander Pierce, owes Mr. Barnes reparations in the amount fifty thousand dollars, ten thousand for each year of mistreatment and abuse.” 

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered, glancing sideways at Pierce and the HYDRA lawyers. They were in various states of shock and disbelief. Pierce had his head in his hands. 

Matt patted his back, and Bucky felt a smile grow on his face. “Holy shit,” He repeated. “I’m free.” He was crying now, wiping tears from his face, laughing a giddily. “I’m free.” 

The judge was talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He only got to his feet when Foggy told him to stand, pulling on his arm. He was saying something, pointing into the crowd. Bucky could barely see anything past the flash of lights, but there was someone running toward him. 

Bucky grinned, hoping over the gate and tackling Steve in a hug. Steve spun him around, pressing kisses to Bucky’s face. “You did it.” 

“You’re here!” Bucky said nonsensically, laughing. 

Steve set him down, cupping his face. “Of course I’m here.” Bucky grabbed his tie, pulling him down into a kiss. The flashes of the cameras grew stronger, and Steve smiled into the kiss.

 

-

 

Bucky donated the winnings of the case to an abuse shelter. He didn’t need Pierce’s money, and honestly, he didn’t want it either. 

The Howling Commandos wrapped up their tour at ACL, and Bucky went with them. He didn’t perform, but he and Steve explored Austin, which was actually a pretty adorable city, for Texas. They ran into other musicians and fans, all of whom were incredibly sweet. 

“So what are you gonna do about the album dropping December?” One indie singer asked. They were at an afterparty at a bar called Stubbs, and it had been about the twelth time he was asked this particular question. 

Bucky shrugged. “I dunno. HYDRA’s within their rights to release it. It's all recorded and everything, and after they release it, I’ll be officially free of them.”

She frowned, spinning the beer in her hands. Someone called her name, and she apologized, then walked over to her friend. Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Why haven’t you told anybody?”

Bucky smiled. “I want it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t want word getting to Pierce. He’ll try to shut it down.” 

Bucky, with help from the Maximoffs and the Commandos, recorded an album of his own, planned to release on the same day as the James Winter album. It was a mix of folk and jazz, all the songs he wanted to make but was never allowed to. Not a glitterpop song in sight. 

He was feeling optimistic about it. His personal Twitter account had more followers than the James Winter account, and there had already been calls to boycott the upcoming Winter album. 

“James! Ja- Bucky!” Peggy walked over, cheeks pink with alcohol. She stumbled into him, grabbing his shoulder to right herself. He smiled. Bucky and Peggy, as well of the rest of the band had actually gotten pretty close since after the trial. “Our-our openers just signed a record deal.”

“Really?” Steve asked, looking over at Kate, Billy, Teddy, and America; their young openers. “Good for them!”

“Yes, but-” Peggy hiccupped. “But  _ business _ , Steve.” She looked up at Bucky. “Your friends, the kids,”

Bucky blinked, then realized who she was talking about. “Wanda and Pietro? Silver Witch?”

“Yes! Yes.” She poked his chest. “Would they want to sign on with us?”

There was a shrill shriek, and Wanda came out of nowhere, nearly tackling all three of them. “Yes, we absolutely would, where do we sign, oh my god, oh my god, Pietro! Come here!”

Steve laughed, leading them away from Peggy and the Maximoffs. “Let’s get some air.” 

“‘Kay.” Bucky said, letting Steve lead him outside. As soon as they were out of the building, Steve pressed Bucky against the wall, kissing him senseless. Bucky laughed, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Steve whispered, kissing his jaw and neck. Bucky twined his fingers into Steve’s hair, groaning. 

There was the sound of a phone camera clicking and the sound of giggling, and Bucky laughed, pushing Steve off of him. “That’s gonna be on Twitter tomorrow.” 

“Mmhm.” Steve said with a smile, pulling Bucky by the hand. “Let’s go back to the hotel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that's really the end, huh? Thanks again to everyone who read this and supported it with comments and kudos. I love you guys a lot.


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